


The Bizarre Road Trip Of A Missing Family

by icantwritegood



Series: Road Trip [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Forced Cooperation, Guess Who's Back, Murder, Rivals, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, and aggressive angst, back again, but also some bad tropes, but it's more light-hearted (for now...), delightful tropes such as, like criminal activities, ryan is good guy detective, shane is corrupt af businessman, they got beef, they got history, with the usual tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantwritegood/pseuds/icantwritegood
Summary: A hunt for a missing family + one determined detective + one ex-conman + past beef = one hell of a road trip.





	1. Personal Justice (more commonly known as Vengeance)

The farmhouse was in the middle of goddamn nowhere. Just fields for miles. Stretching into the distance. And a hell of a lot of sheep. It wasn't really a shock that the Tromp family had upped and left. Ryan would've done the same, probably. But he would've told someone where he was going, he assumed. And he wouldn't have left his credit card, or his phone, or his passport. Which each member of the Tromp family had seemingly left. Apart from one phone, which was missing. Mitchell Tromp's, the son. At least there might be one sane person in the family. The home itself was, despite being relatively lavish, in complete disarray, apart from the organized piles of documents and financial records. Ryan stopped by a pile almost as tall as he himself, taking the top file off it.

"They must've been looking for something, right?" He flicked through the file; more accounts. Red markings all over, scribbled, scratched, scrawled. "Anyone know basic economics? Because I sure as hell don't."

He didn't like the uncomfortable pause from his coworkers, before Steven let out a single 'ha'. They'd been acting weird ever since they'd arrived. Distant. Anxious. He watched them warily, suspiciously. It wouldn't be unlike them to have some prank ready, some pop-up surprise to scare the shit out of him. No matter what, they were always guaranteed some sort of reaction. Although they usually saved that stuff for when they weren't in the midst of an investigation. He sidled over to Helen, who flashed him a quick smile.

"What's going on?" he muttered, throwing a look over his shoulder at where Andrew and Steven hovered around another mountain of papers, mumbling between themselves. "Are they up to something? Am I at the butt of some joke here?"

"Huh? No." Her answer was very fast indeed, avoiding his eyes. "Nah. No way."

He stared at her. "Look, what's going on? Why are you guys all acting so weird?" He hesitated. "Did I do something?"

"No!" This answer was sincere as she turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "No, you didn't do anything. We're just, uh, worried about the lack of information about where the family went. Y'know."

"There has to be something in all these files, right?" he replied, still not quite convinced that he hadn't done anything. Had he annoyed Steven earlier when he finished his fancy coffee? "Some- Some financial issue?"

She shrugged awkwardly, hearing him follow her into the side office, which was ninety-percent mahogany, bathed in the light from the rising sun outside. "Yeah, but none of us really know enough to pinpoint it, right?"

"We can find someone," he said lightly. 

"Yeah. About that." She cleared her throat. "Um... We did find someone. And he insisted that he be allowed to make an entrance so-"

The door suddenly slammed closed, Ryan whipping around in shock. And he was to quickly be shocked again, his eyes staying wide at the sight of _him_ , arms dropping to his sides.

“Bergara.”

Ryan inhaled sharply, breathing the name. “Madej.”

The man stood with his hands on his hips, an eyebrow raised ever so slightly. Very much contemptuous. And very much not in jail, where he sure as hell belonged. 

"Well, little guy." Shane began walking towards him, not taking his eyes from the shorter man’s. “I see you still look like The Littlest Elf. Except not cute and lovable.”

“I see you still look like a giraffe fucked an anteater and popped out a son so hideous they gave him up for adoption and he was raised by a weasel,” replied Ryan just as heatedly, not stepping back, even as the taller man came to a stop only a foot away.

“Still bitter, huh? Is it because I made you cry?”

“You shot me in the stomach!" said Ryan incredulously. "Of course I fucking cried, it was  _painful!_ ”

Shane shrugged. “It was one bullet, Bergara. Toughen up.”

“You shrieked like a baby whenever a bullet even got within a meter of you, so shut it.”

“I’m not the one who’s a cop, you little jerk-off.”

“No, you’re a money launderer, and I’m still wondering what you’re doing not behind bars right now.”

“I prefer the term ‘freestyle accounting’.” He raised one hand to his ear with a grin, the other moving as if spinning a record. “ _Chika chikaaa_.”

“Money laundering, tax evasion, bribery, embezzlement, defalcation,” listed Ryan, each word fiercely disdainful. “You-”

“Identity theft, counterfeiting, forgery,” finished Shane with a shrug. “Although you guys never actually caught me on  _those_ charges, so… Oops. There you go.”

“Helen, he has to leave right now,” said Ryan icily, turning away and crossing the room, hands on his hips. “Before I lose it.”

“Ryan,” she said slowly, in a voice he really didn’t like. It was the voice of someone about to tell their child that their dog had gone to doggy heaven. “You might need to sit for this.”

He stared at her, his eyes flickering to Shane's smirking face, then back to her. Slowly putting two and two together. "No. No, you wouldn't."

"But we need-"

"Do you know how long I worked to put him away?" He pointed at Shane, who closed his eyes, spreading his arms as if bathing in the applause of a crowd. "Three years, Helen! Three years of my life spent trying to get his ass in jail, and he's just- he's just gonna _help_ us?!"

"I'm going to trade," said Shane, still smiling. "My financial, uh, _expertise_ in exchange for a cut on my sentence. What do you think about that?"

"I-"

"Oh, wait, hold on." Shane paused, as if seriously contemplating an issue. "Oh yeah! Your thoughts on the subject don't matter. At all. In the slightest."

Ryan gritted his teeth, glaring at him. "How. How did you worm your way out of this."

He tapped the side of his head. "You know what's in here, Bergara? A brain. Which I actually use."

"That brain is gonna be all over the wall if you-"

"We asked him, Ryan!" Helen stepped into his line of view, hands raised to try and calm him down. "He overheard me and Steven talking about how we didn't know what to do, and he-"

"And you let him talk?" Ryan sighed wearily, knowing full well that Shane probably ran rings around them in seconds. As was a talent of his. "You know not to let him talk unless I'm there!"

He heard Shane give a dry laugh. "You think you can outsmart me now, do you?"

"I _did_ outsmart you. And I could do it again."

"I very much doubt that, my little friend." His voice took on an edge, a villainous one, an almost-purr to the words. "Because I've had a lot of time to think in the last year. And I've only had one thing on my mind."

Ryan gave him a flat look. "What? Vengeance?"

A pause.

"Oh come _on_ ," said Shane, very moodily indeed, shoulders slumping. "I- Yeah. Yeah, it was vengeance. God damnit."

Ryan rolled his eyes, letting them come to a stop on Helen. "So he's just explicitly mentioned that he wants revenge, and we're not going to put him back where he belongs?"

"There's the whole deal," she explained slowly, choosing her words very carefully. The air in the room was thick, and she was very much aware that although it was relatively cool between the two men right now, it could flare up at any second. "He helps us with the financial records. He checks for any dubious transactions, anything at all. Which- Which could take a while."

Ryan folded his arms across his chest, still stuck in a scowling match with the man across the room. "So we stick him in a room with-"

"No, we don't."

He blinked, looking at her. "Well, what do we do? I'm going after the Tromps with TJ and Kelsey, you and Steven and Andrew are staying here, right? Where does this guy fit in?"

"He can't stay here," she said, swallowing. "As you said, he'll just talk his way out. So... And, like, also as you said, you're the only person he _can't_ trick as easily, or-"

Ryan felt his heart drop into his stomach. "No. No no no. Don't say what you're trying to say. Please."

Shane gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. "Me and you, ba-"

"No!" Ryan shouted the word, pointing vehemently first at Shane, then at Helen. "This is bullshit! Who authorized this?"

"Quinta!"

"Fuck!" He paced around the desk, looking like he wanted to put his fist through it. "No. No, I'll resign. I'll quit before I have to-"

"Oh please, Bergara." Shane gave him an unimpressed once-over. "Spare us the dramatics."

"Shut the fuck up." 

Shane put on a high-pitched voice, pretending to dry imaginary tears. "Boo hoo, my name's Ryan and I blubber like a little baby when I get shot in th-"

Ryan suddenly went for him, Helen jumping in front of him, pushing him back, shouting for Steven and Andrew. He didn't take his eyes from Shane's, letting himself be walked backwards, hands raised to shoulder height. _Keep your cool, Ryan. Keep it. Don't let him win_. Shane was watching him with an amused smile on his face, a look that made it clear that Ryan had reacted exactly how he'd wanted him to. 

"Helen, you have to talk Quinta out of this," muttered Ryan, taking a deep breath. "I won't- I can't work with him. I can't be in the same car as him. I will actually die."

"Not to sound cliche, but we literally don't have time." Helen kept her voice quiet, aware that Ryan probably didn't want his complaining to be heard by the other man. "The family have been gone for twenty-four hours, Ryan. Without phones, without credit cards, they're next to untraceable. You need to go within the next hour."

Ryan stared at her for a long moment, turning his head to glare at the floor. "I'm not doing this for nothing. I want something. I want something beneficial out of this."

"You're getting something beneficial," grinned Shane, bathing in the heat from the other man's glare. "You get to enjoy my company, in which we can reminisce about our past encounters. All the _fun_ we had. Even the times you tried to straight-up kill me!"

"I didn't! They were just warning shots."

Shane raised his hands, as if displaying a headline in mid-air. "Five Times Ryan Bergara Tried To Shoot Me, And The One Time He Did."

Ryan scoffed. "It was barely a scratch, dude."

"It was an attempt on my life," said Shane indignantly, eyebrows raised. "And I still haven't forgiven you. And I never will."

" _You_ hired a hitman to kill me!"

Shane rolled his eyes. "Jesus, it was a fucking _prank_ , bro."

Ryan closed his eyes, fighting to just stay calm, stay collected. "It wasn't- I didn't find it very funny."

"I'm actually intrigued as to how you got out of that, though," said Shane with genuine interest, wandering over to sit against the desk, arms folded. "I'll admit, I was a tiny bit impressed. A tiny bit."

"Well as much as I'm _dying_ for your approval," replied Ryan flatly. "You can keep it. And choke on it. Asshole."

"God, Bergara. You're full of it today. Full of _spice_." He let the last word drag out, a lingering hiss. "Which I'd advise should be reigned in a little. If this road trip is going to end with both of us still in one piece."

Ryan was silent for a moment at this veiled hint, before stepping forwards, eyes locked on the other man's. "Don't threaten me."

"Or what?" replied Shane, unfazed. "You'll smack me around? Rip my bones from my body? Turn me into human lasagna?"

"Gross."

"You won't do shit, pal," continued Shane, straightening up off the desk. "Because you're not allowed. Not since I agreed to all this." He winked. "It's in the terms and conditions."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. "Oh, that's part of the whole deal, is it?"

"No touching," began Shane, listing them off on his fingers. "No provocation. No interrupting the other's work. No talking unless to do with work. It's all sorted, Bergara. Without your knowledge."

"You prick."

"And _that_ was provocation, Madej," said Helen quickly. "So now look at him and apologize."

"No, no, it's okay." Ryan's eyes were bright, the sort of spark in them that a mad scientist would have before revealing his latest experiment. "I have a better idea."

* * *

The room was pretty full, pretty loud. Every now and then, they'd hold a little class for elementary school students; gun safety, technology stuff, and self defense. The latter of which was today's show. And the reason for why the room was a bit fuller than usual. Not only was there the typical classroom of ten-year-olds there, but also a few coworkers who'd decided to come and watch Ryan finally get some sort of personal justice. Which is, at the end of the day, just revenge wearing a mask. He stood at the top of the room, rolling up his sleeves as he talked.

"Now, who here has ever been in a fight?" he asked lightly, moving to stand beside the extremely unimpressed Shane. "I hope no one."

A few kids raised their hands.

Ryan shook his head in mock-disapproval. "That's not good. Fighting is bad. Especially if you find yourself up against an opponent much bigger than you."

"That's me, by the way," said Shane dryly, raising a flippant hand. "Hey, how are ya."

A girl's voice piped up. "Why is he so tall?"

"Because I eat nosy children for breakfast," replied Shane with a grin, before Ryan could say anything. "Use their bones as toothpicks."

The kids squealed in amused disgust, laughing and giggling among themselves.

"Can I get up on your shoulders?"

"No. You'll just have to work hard to grow as tall as me." He smiled. "It's about determination, focus, and eating a pine cone everyday."

" _That_ is not true," interrupted Ryan, raising a finger. "Don't eat pine cones."

"Why is your hair like that?" asked a boy, still looking at Shane. "Why is it standing up?"

"You ever seen a cockatoo when it's threatened?" Shane shrugged. "I operate the same way."

"Are you a cop?"

"Funny you should ask that." He wandered across the row of desks, as if it was him who was giving the class. "Who here has heard of money-laundering? No? What about bribery? Ah, a few. Basically, I'm an accountant who's extremely good at my job, but gets punished by the system because of it." He stood with his hands on his hips, giving them all a stern look. "Repeat after me: fuck the system."

"Shane," said Ryan sternly, just audible over the children repeating the phrase brightly.

"Fuck the police," continued Shane, leaning forwards on a desk. "Coming straight from the underground."

"Hey, enough!" Ryan gave him a sharp slap on the arm, throwing him a warning glare. "Shut up."

"As the prophet Ice Cube once said," persisted Shane over the chanting of the now-hyper children, arms raised, like a priest giving a sermon. "Fuck that shit, 'cause I ain't the one, for a punk motherfucker with a badge and a gun."

"He's cursing!" squealed one of the kids over the din.

"I _know_ he's cursing," said Ryan loudly, seeing TJ and Kelsey falling around the place laughing at the back of the desks. "And he better stop, or this agreement may take a turn for the worst."

Shane finally stepped back, giving him a wry smile. "Right."

"Any _relevant_ questions?" said Ryan over the gradually-quietening class, rolling his eyes. "Anything? No? Great. Let's get on with this."

He turned to flash a quick smile up at the taller man, who raised a challenging eyebrow in response. 

“Now, I’m about to show you how to incapacitate someone much larger than you.” Ryan gave Shane a friendly slap on the shoulder, smiling at the flat look on the man’s face. “With a single hit.”

“This is bullshit,” said Shane, hands on his hips as he stared at the classroom full of now-interested students. “It really is.”

“You just said another bad word!”

“And I’ll probably say many more before this is over.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Now there’s three points on an attacker’s body that are particularly vulernable. The throat-” He tapped the taller man’s neck just hard enough to make him cough slightly. “-the solar plexus-” He touched the relevant area, just below the ribs. “-and the crotch. Which I’m not going to touch.”

The children laughed, as they always do whenever a penis joke is even thought of. Oh, and Andrew and Steven. They also laughed.

“I guess that only leaves one option for you, Bergara,” said Shane lightly. “Seeing as you may struggle to reach my throat.”

The kids continued laughing, much to Ryan’s displeasure.

“Yeah, I guess it does.” He raised a hand to quieten the room, hearing the stifled giggles from some of the students. “Right, now, as you can see, Shane is a very tall, gangly, awkward descendant of Bigfoot himself-”

“Alright,” muttered Shane, glowering at him.

“-and although he is bigger than me, I will nonetheless flatten him with one blow.”

“Don’t get too cocky now, Bergara. It’s gonna be embarrassing when I don’t get, uh, _flattened_.”

“Hit him, Ryan!” called TJ from the back of the class, hands cupped around his mouth. “Sock him!”

“You really think you’ll stay standing?”

Shane smiled. “Out of spite, yes.”

The kids were chanting along with TJ now, clapping their hands. _Hit him! Hit him! Hit him!_

“Oh can it, you dicks. Jeez, the fickle nature of man, am I right?” Shane spoke over the din, seeing Ryan ready himself, raising his fists. “Come on, Bergara. Do your worst.”

Ryan went to hit him, seeing the taller man flinch, automatically raising his hands to defend himself. “Hands down, Madej! Don’t get all wimpy on me.”

“Fine! Fine.” Reluctantly, very reluctantly, he lowered his arms to his sides, taking a deep breath, exhaling sharply. “C'mon then. Don’t let the kiddies down.”

Ryan was smiling from behind his fists, thinking over the amount of times he’d dreamed of a moment like this. “You ready?”

“Just hit me, you little dick.” He bounced lightly on the spot, watching Ryan’s hands with narrowed eyes. “Do it. Do it do it do it do-”

So he did it. The class  _ooooohed_  in unison as Ryan landed a solid punch right below the taller man’s ribs, hearing TJ clapping in admiration as Shane immediately doubled over, coughing and spluttering, stumbling against the wall. He slid to one knee, still folded over, his labored breaths audible even over the cheering kids.

“Finish him off, Ryan!” Kelsey punched the air. “Yeah!”

Shane shook his head firmly, speaking around his gasping breaths. “One punch. Deal was one.”

Ryan shook his hand out, still grinning. "And one was enough. Two and I might just-"

"Two and I'll sock you right back," interrupted Shane, forcing himself to straighten up, taking a bit of time with it. "Right in your perfect teeth."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah, baby."

Ryan raised his fists again, hearing the kids growing rapidly louder, more excited at the prospect of a real show. "First of all, don't call me baby. Second of all, I'm gonna-"

"What is going _on_ in here?" Quinta's gaze moved from the screaming kids to the cheering cops, and finally to the source of entertainment. "Ryan!"

He sheepishly dropped his hands, eyes widening at the sight of the superintendent. "Oh shit, I- _Oh_ my God!" He took his hand from his face, staring at it as if it could be covered in blood, before fixing his wide eyes on Shane. "You just fucking slapped me!"

A kid's voice piped up over the shouting. "He said a bold word!"

Shane shrugged. "You let your guard down, Bergara. Blame yourself."

"You son of a-"

"Enough!" Quinta clapped her hands to get everyone's attention, giving the kids a stern look. "Your teacher is outside. Why don't you go join her." The disappointed chorus of 'awwwww' had her feeling a tiny bit bad, so she added another bit. "I'll get detective Lim to show you how to taze someone!"

They basically scrambled out of the room, babbling excitedly, Andrew and Steven reluctantly following, along with the group of staff that had faffed off to see the showdown. Quinta closed the door after them, turning to face the remaining occupants. This was going about as well as she had expected, to be honest. The deal she'd agreed to was a desperate one, but a necessary one. The country was already getting riled up over this missing family; why had they left? Where are they going? Are they a danger to society? Are they harmful? She needed these questions answered. And soon.

"Sit down," she ordered, pointing at the row of desks at the front of the room as she moved to stand where Shane and Ryan were currently standing. "Marchbank, Darragh, you too."

The four people sat, one a bit more reluctantly than the others.

"I'm very uncomfortable about this whole thing," said Shane flatly, sitting down with a whole lot of attitude, arms folded across his chest. "I'm clearly going to be in a very unstable environment."

Ryan threw him a scowl. "Well you're the one rocking the environment in the first place, Madej. And sit up straight, for God's sake."

"You see, that-" He paused to point at the man at the desk beside him. "-is not going to be a thing. He can't tell me what to do. And that's not debatable."

"If you're acting like a tool, I'm going to get annoyed!" Ryan looked at Quinta, eyes wide, innocent. "I mean, who wouldn't? Look at him. Even his face is just- It annoys me."

"And you think I don't find you absolutely, blood-boilingly infuriating?" Shane scoffed, hands raised, throwing a 'who does this guy think he is?' look over his shoulder at TJ and Kelsey. "Uh, newsflash, asshole. I do."

"Shut up," said Quinta, hands on her hips. "I'm going to tell you how this is going to go down. Right from A to B."

TJ shot her a finger gun. "What about right from T to J?"

"T is after J in the alphabet, you idiot," muttered Ryan.

"From J to T?"

"Yet no one has ever made it _official_ that the alphabet be said in that order," said Shane, as if discussing a topical political issue at dinner. "So why not T to J?"

"Really, Madej?" Ryan turned in his seat to raise an eyebrow at him, an arm draped over the back of his chair. "You've barely been out for twenty-four hours and you're already breaking laws left, right, and center."

"Oh no, please don't fire six warning shots into my face."

"You're going to take Ryan's car," said Quinta before they could go off again. "And you two are going to take Kelsey's. You're going to follow the family. Some people rang, said they saw the car heading towards Bathurst. Track them, and keep in contact with us about their whereabouts. Sort out your accommodation as necessary, but don't go wild, yeah? As in no fancy hotels."

Ryan waited for her to address the clear elephant in the room. "And what about this bozo, huh? He just comes along for the ride?"

"Madej will bring the relevant files with him," she replied. "And go through them in the car, which will hopefully keep him busy, yeah? And he is not to leave the car without one of you guys, okay?" She waved them off, a signal that their briefing was done. "We'll keep you updated if anything new comes up. Stay safe, and stay together." 

Ryan closed the door after them, raising an eyebrow at Shane. "Hear that? You step out of the car without me and I can haul you right back here and put you back where you belong."

"I'll be honest, Bergara," he replied in a drawl. "I zoned out about two minutes in. So, uh, oops."

The shorter man rolled his eyes, a gesture brimming with impatience. "Just goes to show what type of student you were."

"Oh, and you were a great student, were you?"

"Most definitely better than you."

"Ah, yet who's richer out of the two of us?" Shane grinned at him. "The system failed you, little guy. Yet here you are, out to enforce it."

Ryan didn't bother replying to this, mainly because his teeth were gritted too hard to do so. He turned away, heading off after TJ and Kelsey before suddenly coming to a halt. He half-turned to look at the taller man, almost expectantly.

Shane frowned at him, still standing by the classroom. "What?"

"Come on!"

"Huh?!"

"You're not allowed be by yourself, you idiot." He faced him, hands on his hips, ever the disapproving parent. "Come on. Chop chop."

He hesitated for a long moment before following. "This is some grade A bullshit, Bergara."

"You created this whole thing, so shut up."

"I didn't think they'd lump me in with _you_." 

"You thought they'd just let you skip off into the sunset, huh?"

Shane sighed heavily, forcefully, as they made their way to the main doors. "Look, don't take this personally or anything, but I literally hate you. With a passion."

Ryan paused, pushing the door open. "Well, that, uh, that sounds very personal. I'll be honest."

"Well, suck it up, Bergara." Another heavy sigh. "Because we've got a long drive ahead of us."


	2. Night One

Their timetable was so far going as planned:

9am - ?: Follow Tromps.

9:30am - 11:30am: Bicker profusely.

11:30am - 12:00pm: Pull over for coffee break.

12:00pm - 3:00pm: Argue passionately.

3:00pm - 3:15pm: Threaten physical violence.

3:15pm: Pull over to fulfill this threat.

3:25pm: Get interrupted by the passing TJ and Kelsey.

3:30pm - ?: Undetermined amount of silent treatment.

Right now, they were in hour three of said stony silence, but for the rustling of papers as Shane rifled through them, tracking transactions as determinedly as Ryan was tracking the Tromps. And although not a word had been spoken, Ryan was still certain he was going to scream if Shane even spoke one more-

“So what’s your favorite color?”

“Shut up!”

Shane raised his eyebrows, still scanning the pages scattered across his lap. “Jeez, Bergara. I never quite knew how feisty you were.”

"And I never quite knew how annoying you were.” Ryan kept his eyes glued to the swiftly-darkening road, the stars gradually beginning to appear in the sky. “And I’d like to un-know it.”

“Where the hell’s the other two?” Shane turned in his seat, looking back at the empty road, stretching into the distance. “Hello? Hello?!”

Ryan tilted his head away at the raised voice, eyes narrowing. “They stopped at the last place.”

“The last place?”

“That motel place.”

Shane blinked, staring at him. “Wh- Why the hell didn’t  _we_  stop?”

“Because we’re not going to catch up with the Tromps if we stop overnight! We’ll lose their tail.”

Shane sat back in his seat, shaking his head firmly. “Turn this car around.”

Ryan threw him a sidelong scowl. “What?”

“Turn it around! I need to sleep!”

“Then sleep in the damn car and give me some peace.”

“No. I want a bed, I want hot food, I want-”

“You want you want you want.” Ryan shook his head. “Well you’re not gonna get, Madej. I was about to ask if you’d been spoilt as a child, but no, you just spoilt yourself as an adult with your stolen mon-”

“God damnit, Bergara, shut the hell up about the fact I stole money sometimes!” He rubbed his hands down his face, still leaning back in the seat. “You are maddening. And I need you to turn this around and go back to the motel before I-”

“Oh save it, Madej. We’ll stop at the next one.”

“Where’s the next one?”

“Bathurst.”

“Fuck you! No! That’s like, another two hundred miles!”

Ryan shrugged. “Yeah. I know.”

Shane stared at him for a moment, baffled at the ridiculous determination of the other man. “If you think I’m annoying, you have not seen shit. Really, you haven’t. I will throw a tantrum the likes of which you have  _never_  seen.”

“Oh do your worst, Madej.”

“I mean it, you little dick. I will scream, and I will shout, and I will cry, and I will  _make_  you turn this car around.” His voice grew louder, more dramatic, accompanied by hand gestures that would give any supervillain a run for their money. “I’ve contained my anger for long enough, Bergara! But I will let it flow, I will! I will set free the fire of a thousand suns! I am untethered and my rage knows no bounds!”

“Shut up,” shouted Ryan over the other man’s shouts. “I mean it! Shut your face!”

“I will huff and I will puff and I will blow your resolve out the damn window!”

“You won’t break me, Madej! I won’t let you!”

“I’ll break you into a million tiny little pieces!” yelled Shane, right in his ear. “You bitch! I will not stop! I will not stop until you turn this car around!”

Ryan suddenly slammed the breaks, the car screeching to a halt. He continued muttering angrily as he unbuckled his seat belt, searching his pockets for something. Shane watched him suspiciously, slightly breathless from his tantrum-throwing. His eyes widened at the sight of the handcuffs, immediately scrambling to undo his own seat belt.

“Stay still, you fuck!” Ryan clambered halfway over to him, struggling to keep the taller man down, feeling a knee digging into his ribs as Shane tried to push away. “You did this! You did this to yourself!”

“Ryaaaaan!” He shouted the name like a Marvel hero would their arch-nemesis, feeling the seat creaking under the weight of the two of them pressing against it, the various pages crinkling. “Get off me, you bastard!”

Five minutes later, and they were continuing on down the lonely road that stretched for miles into the distance. Miles. So many miles. Ryan, still breathing heavily from their scuffle, closed his eyes as he heard Shane speak up again.

“I’m gonna report the fuck out of you.” He sat slumped in his seat, hands behind his head, cuffed to the headrest. “I’m gonna report you so hard, you won’t even know what hit you. You've already broken one of the main rules, Bergara. Which is not to interrupt my work.”

"Well you broke the one about not provoking me!"

"Fuck yourself."

"Oh, right, yeah. Nice comeback."

There was silence for a few minutes. Lovely, sweet silence. But Ryan just couldn't relax. Not with Shane slumped in the seat next to him, a grown man with the attitude of a moody teenager and the patience of a bored toddler. 

"I need to sneeze."

"Shane, no." Ryan glared at him, seeing the man's eyes close, mouth opening. "Don't. Wait until I get a-"

Shane purposely turned, sneezing directly at the detective. And this was it. This was the point where the switch was finally flipped.

"No!" shouted Ryan, livid and disgusted, the car screeching to a halt at a T intersection. He lifted his hands from the steering wheel, like he was drenched from head to toe in Shane's sneeze. "No, you bastard! Oh my God, you son of a bitch!" He suddenly veered off down the adjoining road, seeing what was hopefully a garage in the distance. “I’m going to get out here. And I’m going to go to the bathroom. And then I’m going to purchase duct tape. And then I’m going to get back in and shove the duct tape right down your throat.”

Shane gave a snide laugh. “Yeah, great plan. But most people just say 'bless you'. And you’re…” His voice trailed off as he saw the glowing neon sign, straightening up in his seat. “Destiny, if you were a person I would be on my knees sucking your di-”

“Fine!” Ryan gave up, seeing as the motel was now so tantalizingly close, its sign glaringly seedy. “Fine, we’ll stop for the night!”

He pulled into the parking lot, killing the engine, studying the dodgy-looking building with narrowed eyes. Shane turned his head to look at him expectantly, an eyebrow arched.

“I’m gonna go check it out,” muttered Ryan, kicking open his door, letting the heavy night air flow in.

“Hey! Take me with you.”

Ryan paused, holding the door open. “How about you go fuck yourself, and I don’t do that?”

Shane scowled as the door was slammed shut, watching Ryan head off across the empty lot towards the shady building. What a little douchebag. Leaving him sitting here like a dog. He was  _not_  a dog. He was a damn genius. He was a criminal mastermind. He was to be feared, to be revered. _Not_ to be left handcuffed in a car.

“I’ll show you.” Shane managed to twist around, kneeling up on the seat, pushing the headrest back and forth to make sure it was one that could come out. Otherwise he could end up with some lovely broken wrists. “I’ll show you, Ryan Bergara.”

After a few determined tugs, the headrest popped out of the seat, and he was halfway to freedom. He threw a glance at the entrance to the motel, just in case Ryan had decided to reappear. Then he kicked away the panel under the steering wheel, not giving a shit that there was a much simpler and less destructive way to do so. He hummed to himself as he observed the tangle of wires, trying to remember what Rubin had taught him. She'd been brought in the same night he had, for robbery. Of vehicles, specifically. They traded many pieces of advice regarding their respective hobbies. The only problem now was trying to remember what she'd said.

“Red is battery,” he muttered, hoping he was choosing the right ones here as he tried to recall her words. “Blue is starter. Blue is also live, so be very careful.”

* * *

Ryan started as he heard a car engine rumble to life, the woman behind the counter seeming somewhat bewildered by his alarmed face. He was almost completely sure that they’d been the only car in the lot. He ran back to the doors, skidding to a halt out on the pavement, watching as his own car headlights moved in a circle as Shane reversed.

“You absolute fuck!” Ryan raced across the lot, feet pounding against the concrete as he continued on the trajectory that would have him and his car reuniting in seconds. “Stop the-”

 _Stupid_ , he had time to think so himself.  _Stupid that you’d even think Madej would stop_. Instead, he was thrown up onto the bonnet, rolling onto the windshield with a yelled curse. Only then did the car screech to a halt, sending him flying off it, tumbling across the ground. With the aid of adrenaline, he was back on his feet in seconds, gun drawn. He could see Shane behind the glare of the headlights, hands raised, still cuffed together.

“Get out of the car!” shouted Ryan, furious. “Get out of the fucking car!”

Shane rolled down the window a little, leaning up to the gap. “No! You’re gonna hit me!”

“I’m not going to hit you.”

“Put the gun away!”

Ryan closed his eyes, jaw set. “If I was going to shoot you, I could just do it right now!”

A pause. “Right.”

Shane kicked open the door, stepping out into the lot, still keeping his cuffed hands raised in front of him. “I- I was just testing you, Bergara. And hey! You passed.”

“You just hit me with my own damn car!” Ryan shoved past him, silently flipping out at the sight of the wires hanging loose under the steering wheel for a minute or so. “Oh you prick! You prick, what the hell did you do to my car?!”

Shane decided not to respond, gazing at the surrounding area. Not that there was much to gaze at. Just the shadowy rooms, and the flickering neon sign, and the fields stretching away into the misty dusk. It actually would’ve been quite eerily beautiful, if Ryan wasn’t still trying to muffle his own furious yells right beside him.

“Inside,” said Ryan through gritted teeth, killing the engine and closing the car door. “Get inside. Now.”

“Okay, man. Calm down.”

“Actually, no. Get in the car.” Ryan did a one-eighty, turning on his heel. “We’ll find somewhere else.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because they only have double beds here.”

“Ah. So it’s basically a haven for cheating partners, huh?” He stayed where he was, turning back to look at him. “Come on, Bergara. Don’t pull a no homo on me.”

“I’m not pulling a no homo,” replied Ryan icily. “It’s for your own safety. As in, I may be too tempted to strangle you to death in the middle of the night.”

Shane raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Oh, sure.”

“I would!”

“Well where’s the next place we can stop?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then fuck you, we’re staying here!”

“We’re not staying here!”

They held each other’s gazes, both as stupidly stubborn as the other. Shane finally turned away with a scoff, rolling his eyes as he headed towards the doors.

“Shane.”

No response.

“Shane, stop walking.”

He did not stop walking. He continued on towards the building, hearing the footsteps behind him. Really, what he expected was Ryan to grab a hold of him and literally drag him back to the car. But surprisingly, he didn’t. He stopped the taller man just before the doors, pulling the cuffs forwards.

“Ow, watch it,” muttered Shane, glowering at the shorter man as his hands were freed. "Why the hell are you always so rough all the time?"

"I'm not," replied Ryan flatly. "Only with you."

* * *

Things were undeniably tense. There was no point in trying to deny it. Every single topic that came up ended in a fearsome argument. They couldn't agree on anything. They _wouldn't_ agree on anything. The only other people in the motel were four rooms away, and they were beginning to tire of the frequent shouting coming from down the hallway. Ryan was a rock, Shane was a hard place. Ryan was an unstoppable force, Shane was an immovable object. Not that either of them could really see this. They just saw themselves as two guys who didn't like each other. But to the rest of the criminal world, and to the rest of the police force, they were Australia's version of Sherlock and Moriarty. Three years spent outwitting each other, toying with each other, and basically just being total dicks. The day Shane had been brought in, the force had exploded with the news; Ryan won! Ryan has him in cuffs in cell B! For real! The criminal world was quite certain that Shane wouldn't be in for long, however. He never was. He was Shane Madej, for God's sake. He'll find a way out.

So here were Ryan and Shane, an unintended celebrity duo, carrying the weight of a thousand bets on their unaware shoulders.

They thought that maybe they’d just been getting particularly antsy because they were hungry. Maybe it was because of cabin fever. Or maybe it was because they simply just didn’t like each other. The extent of this dislike had not been truly appreciated by either of them until now, however. It was like John McLane stuck in a room with Hans Gruber. Neil McCauley and Vincent Hanna having to share a bathroom. Batman and the Joker forced to sleep in the same bed. It just wasn’t... safe.

“Let me use it.”

“No! You should’ve brought your own!”

Shane lingered in the bathroom door, arms folded across his chest. “Look, it was just a tiny bit last minute. Sorry I forgot my razor. So many apologies, blah blah.”

“Holy fuck, shut up.” Ryan threw him a glare, the disapproval of which was slightly ruined by the shaving foam beard he was currently sporting. “You’re not using it. I mean, you’ll clog it up.”

“Bullshit!”

“You’re already halfway to a full-on beard, dude!”

“Oh, come on.” Shane leaned against the door frame, an eyebrow raised. “There’s no shops nearby. Just let me use your stupid razor.”

“No, Shane! Go away!”

“For one fucking night, man!”

Ryan turned to face him directly, each word pronounced nice and clear. “I said, you’ll clog it up.”

“And you magically won’t?!”

“Your beard is more beardier than mine!”

“Oh, I’m so  _sorry_ , Ryan!” He moved to the sink, snatching up his toothbrush, angrily applying toothpaste. “I’m so sorry my testosterone levels are superior to yours! I’m so sorry I’m such a _man!”_

“I’m going to shove that toothbrush right down your throat.”

“You have a literal razor in your hand and you choose the toothbrush as a weapon?” Shane spoke around said toothbrush, leaving it hanging from his mouth as he rolled up his sleeves, turning on the sink. “You’re a fantastic cop, Bergara. Top notch.”

“Stop talking! You’re dribbling toothpaste everywhere.”

“No, I’m simply foaming at the mouth because I’m so angry at you!”

“You know what? Fuck this.” He gave up trying to finish his simple task of shaving as the taller man quickly took over the space, turning and using his shirt as a makeshift towel.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Shane raised his arm to look back at the cause of the tugging on his shirt, eyes wide. “What the  _fuck_ , Bergara?”

“Hey, don’t push me!”

“Use your own shirt, you little gremlin!”

Ryan suddenly reached around, slapping the toothbrush from the taller man’s hand. Not for any reason in particular. Simply because, at the end of the day, he was just as much of a little shit as the man beside him. Shane turned away with a dramatic flourish, storming back into the room, hands raised to show he had just had enough. Enough! Ryan promptly followed, also fuming.

“Right, you want to do this?” said Shane, circling around, wiping the last bits of toothpaste off his face. “Just like in Brisbane, huh?”

“Where I kicked your ass?" Ryan spread his arms with a bright smile. "Yeah! Why not?”

“You did  _not_ kick my ass!” replied Shane, fiercely defensive. “That was in Perth!”

“Nuh-uh! Brisbane, 2015, I made you eat pavement, Madej!”

“I’m talking about the second time!” 

Ryan paused. “That was just luck.”

“No it was not!” He pointed vehemently at the shorter man. “You got a ledger to the face, Bergara! You were out like a light! It was the sweetest moment of my life.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Actually, no,” persisted Shane, even as he could see Ryan beginning to get fed up with the verbal sparring, looking like he very much wanted it to turn physical. And soon. “I haven’t washed this hand since I slapped you with it this morning! And I’m  _never_ going to wash it again!”

Ryan pulled a face, one eye narrowing. “Ew!”

"Don't hesitate, little guy." He stayed where he was as Ryan closed the space between them, raising his own fists. "Strike fast and true."

"Stop quoting _Game of Thrones_ at me!" He suddenly paused, coming to a halt, before very reluctantly taking his buzzing phone from his pocket and putting it to his ear. "Hello?"

Shane watched in silence as the shorter man turned away, a hand on his hip as he continued talking to the unknown caller. "Who is it?"

Ryan ignored him, still occupied with the phone. "Yeah, no, we're fine. Oh, TJ and Kelsey stayed at a motel a few miles back."

"Who is it, Ryan?"

"Nope, he's still here. And still in one piece. For now."

Shane followed him doggedly across the room, wanting to even _see_ a phone close up. He wasn't allowed one on the trip. In case he tried to bolt. Which he most definitely would, so he couldn't exactly complain. "Who is it, man? Just tell me!"

"Shut up, Shane!" Ryan slapped his hand away, throwing him a warning scowl. "Yeah, no, he's just annoying me. No, we haven't found anything yet. We're gonna head off early. Mm. Yeah. Call you soon."

"Who was it?" demanded Shane, the second Ryan hung up. "Why won't you tell me?"

"It was Quinta, you idiot!" Ryan pushed past him, beginning to unbutton his shirt, taking a t-shirt from his bag. "And don't ever snap at me while I'm on the phone to my boss."

"I didn't know it was your boss, Ryan," replied Shane flatly, undoing only the top few buttons of his own shirt before just yanking it off over his head. "Because you wouldn't tell me. And since we're on the subject, you know what would be great here, actually? Some communication."

"I don't _want_ to communicate with you," snapped the shorter man, pulling his t-shirt on. "In fact, I want as little communication as possible between us."

"Oh, you're so funny." Shane used his own t-shirt, bundled in his fist, to point at him as he spoke. "If you don't tell me what's going on, or where we're going, or what we're doing, I'm going to get very sick and tired of you _very_ quickly."

"I don't think I'll lose any fucking sleep over it." 

The knocking at the door interrupted them, Ryan moving to answer it. He opened it, revealing a very weary-looking man standing out in the hallway.

"Look, it's half twelve," said the man instantly, his voice sleepy. "And it would be great if you could keep your domestics for when you're at home. But me and my wife are trying to sleep, and all we can hear is your yelling, and it's very annoying. So please shut up. And maybe think about breaking up."

Ryan stood in silence as the man slumped off down the corridor, back towards the open door at the opposite end. "Sorry." He closed the door with a frown, turning and walking straight into the taller man. "Oh for God's- Put on a shirt already, Madej!"

"Hey, don't push me!" Shane swiped his hand away, glaring as the light was switched off. "What are you doing?"

"Going to bed."

Shane felt his way towards the bed, a bit preoccupied with trying to get his shirt on, muttering curses to himself. He plonked himself down on what he assumed was the empty side of the bed. He assumed wrong.

"Ah, what the fuck, Shane?!"

Shane shot back to his feet, whipping around to face the bed. "You didn't tell me you were there!"

"You didn't ask!"

"Move over."

A pause. "No. Screw you."

"Right. Right, fine." Shane climbed over the other man, making much use of his long limbs as he did so, and their accompanying points in the forms of knees and elbows.

"Ow! Ow ow ow!" Ryan slapped blindly at him, flipping over to bury his head under the pillow. "Oh my God. I think I might actually kill you."

"Oh, suffocate yourself." He lay back on his pillow, hands linked behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. "Mm."

Ryan closed his eyes, hoping to actually be able to just sleep. That Shane wouldn't start being Shane.

"Mmmm."

Ryan took a deep breath at the sound of the man beside him, letting it out through his mouth. _Just chill, Ryan. Go to sleep_. The silence lasted for another minute or so.

"Mmm."

Ryan whipped his head out from under the pillow, glaring down at the darkened features of Shane. "What. What the fuck is it."

Shane opened his eyes, their glint appearing as he did so. "Bed's too small."

"No, you're just too tall. Now shut up."

Shane was quiet for another minute or so, waiting until he thought Ryan was truly relaxed before speaking. "You ever thought we'd be sharing a bed?"

No reply.

"Because like, this is wild." He rolled over to face Ryan, who he now could see was lying face-down, head buried in the pillow. "You ever seen a baby pigeon? I've never seen one. They just, like, appear."

Silence.

"What's that song that was playing in the car earlier?" asked Shane, genuinely curious. "It was something like 'dun dun tss, dun dun tss' and there was a bit like 'bom bom bom bom' and then-"

"AAAAAH!" Ryan suddenly began punching the pillow in front of him, making it only too clear that he wished it was a certain someone's face. "Fuck you! Shut the fuck up!"

Shane waited patiently until the shorter man had tired himself out, eyebrows raised as he listened to Ryan's labored breaths, the bed shaking with the momentum of each exhale. "Sleep tight, Ryan. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah the whole tromp family thing happened in australia. so this is set in australia. i have no explanation behind why. the boyz are down under and that's that


	3. Reminiscing

Six in the morning. The alarm clock showed six in the morning. It was either really that time, or he was having a nightmare. Shane sat up in the bed, eyes narrowed against the dazzling sunlight beginning to come in through the window. Ryan was already packing up his stuff, looking weirdly sweaty. Shane waved at him for his attention.

"Yeah, hey, hi." He paused. "What the fuck are you doing up so early?"

Ryan turned to look at him, hands on his hips, breathing a little heavily. "Well they have a little gym here, so I went for a work-out before you could wake up and ruin my day. And now _we_ are getting ready to leave."

"Wh- What?!" Shane picked up the alarm clock, flinging it across the room at him. "It's six in the morning, you ass! Six! We only got here at, like, one!"

"This isn't a little vacation from prison for you, Madej." Ryan zipped up his bag, chucking it beside the door. "So get up, and get ready. We're leaving."

Shane lay back on the bed with a loud sigh, hands resting over his face. "This is some bullshit, Bergara."

"No, what's bullshit is the fact that you kept me awake all night by taking all the damn covers!" Ryan marched around to his side of the bed, slamming the alarm clock back down on the set of drawers. "Come on, you human noodle."

He dragged himself out of the bed, taking his time with getting dressed, throwing bitter looks at Ryan every five seconds. The other man seemed unfazed, sitting at the end of the bed, occupied with something on his phone. His dark hair fell forwards in loose strands, a little frown on his face as he read whatever was on the screen in front of him. Shane found his movements getting a bit slower as he stared at the unaware Ryan, distractedly buttoning up his flannel shirt. He was actually... He was actually pretty cute. When he wasn't nagging him like a bad sitcom's version of a wife. Ryan suddenly glanced up, meeting Shane's gaze for a split second before Shane turned away, heading for the bathroom.

"So TJ and Kelsey went on ahead, said they found a phone in the middle of the road." Ryan tucked his phone back into his pocket, speaking his thoughts outloud. "It's Mitchell Tromp's. Which means they definitely went onto Bathurst."

Shane blinked, turning his head away. “Uh, yeah. Mmhmm.”

“You’re not even listening to me,” said Ryan flatly, getting to his feet. “As usual.”

 _Fucking hell, don’t fold your arms. Not right now_. “You’re right. I’m not.”

“And you’re not looking at me now either?” Ryan rolled his eyes, completely oblivious to the slightly flustered look on the taller man’s face. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’m impossible?” Shane turned to look at him, pausing for a long moment as he struggled to keep his eyes just on the other man’s face. And not to travel down his neck, to where his still-damp t-shirt clung to his chest, to where his arms lay folded, defined, making his mouth oddly dry. “ _You’re_  impossible.”

“That’s your comeback?” Ryan scoffed, turning away, going to pull his t-shirt off over his head. “Where’s the attit-”

“Stop!”

Ryan turned to look at him in alarm, letting his shirt drop back down. “What? What’s wrong?”

Shane was staring at him with wide eyes, a hand out as if to physically stop him from doing what he was about to do. “I need to pee.”

Ryan’s eyes slowly narrowed, looking him up and down. “…Okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

Shane was already in the bathroom, closing the door over behind him. Then he simply leaned forwards, hands pressed against it, forehead resting on the cool wood. What the fuck was that? He could feel his pulse only beginning to slow, to return to normal. He closed his eyes, sighing quietly. Fuck. That was stupid. He was fine. It was _Ryan_ , for God’s sake. The human plague on his life. Shane shook his head, pacing back and forth in the small bathroom, running his hands back through his hair. It was just a fleeting moment of stupidity. He leaned on the sink, eyes closed, taking a deep breath in, out. In. Out. In. Ou-

“What the hell are you doing?”

Shane jumped in shock, spinning to face him. “I- No! Put a top on!”

The shorter man frowned at him, still using the towel around his shoulders to try and dry his dark hair. “Excuse me?”

“Put on- Put on a jumper or some shit.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Madej.”

Oh God. Oh God this was awful. Shane couldn’t help it. He let his gaze flicker down Ryan’s body, mouth falling open slightly. Oh no. Oh no. Fuck it, he was- He was- Ryan was hot. A good-looking guy. And he’d only just realized it. The worst time to realize it. Shane swallowed, keeping his gaze stuck to the floor. Three years and he'd only just noticed that the guy was hot? Nice one, Shane.

“So Bathurst next, I guess,” continued Ryan, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil evident on the taller man’s face as he reached around him to get his toothbrush. “See if any of them have reared their heads.”

Shane stood still, arms by his sides. Death couldn’t come soon enough. “Yeah.”

“And then what?”

“Why are you asking me?” Shane suddenly pushed past him, unable to ignore the split second in which their skin touched. “I don’t give a shit. You find them, I help you question them. So stop asking me shit.”

“Jesus, alright.” Ryan jumped as the bathroom door was slammed shut, rolling his eyes at himself in the mirror. “Touchy.”

* * *

The sign for Bathurst said another hundred miles. Ryan sighed heavily, tapping out an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel. He turned his head to glance at Shane, who actually seemed focused for once, lips parted slightly as he shifted through the piles of papers in front of him. He was marking certain columns with red pen, some with a yellow highlighter, seeming to be color-coding something or other. Ryan turned on the radio, frowning as Shane immediately turned it off.

"Hey, what?" Ryan turned it back on, returning the glare that Shane threw at him as it was promptly switched off again. "The fuck are you doing, dude?"

"I can't concentrate if there's music playing," he replied coolly, straightening up in his seat, hands gripping the headrest behind him as he stretched. "Ooh, did you hear that? That was my spine cracking."

"Yeah, I heard it." He let his eyes linger on the other man's stretched-out torso, just for a few seconds too long. "I'd rather be hearing the radio, though."

"Well you can't, Bergara!" He gestured at the pages littered across his lap. "I'm doing my job. You do yours."

"Your job?" Ryan snorted. "Money-laundering isn't a job, Madej. Sorry to break it to you."

"Accounting, Ryan! Accounting is my job!" He grinned. "Money-laundering is - was - my hobby."

"You're really just-" He sighed through gritted teeth, able to see the man smiling out of the corner of his eye. "I'm putting on the radio."

"No!" 

"Yes!"

Shane slapped his hand away from the dial, hearing the offended gasp as he did so. "You're just bored. That's why you're trying to annoy me."

"No, that's why I'm trying to put on the radio." He went for a second attempt, snatching his hand away before the highlighter in Shane's hand could make contact with it. "Oh come on, dude! Just let me!"

He shook his head firmly, adjusting his glasses. "No, Ryan."

Ryan frowned to himself, mouth hanging open. "Wait, _I'm_ in charge here."

"Oh, are you?" replied Shane dryly.

"Yes. And I'm putting on the radio." He gave him a warning look as he saw Shane raise his own hand. "I will turn this car around, Madej. And I will drag you all the way back to where you belong. Don't think I won't."

“Oh spare me the usual, Bergara.” He went back to the accounts, shaking his head. “I really don’t think I can listen to it again.”

“You’ll listen to it until you’ve understood it, Madej.” Ryan kept his eyes on the road as he spoke, wondering why he even bothered turning on the radio since they were clearly about to take off on yet another cargument. “I am in charge. You do what I say because this is my career on the line.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your career, Ryan!” He turned to look at him, incredulous. “I really don’t! It doesn’t mean shit to me!”

“Don’t be a total douche, alright?”

“How about the fact that  _you_  ruined  _my_  career, huh?”

“Laundering money isn’t a fucking career, you ass!”

“Yeah, you’re right! Instead, _every damn day_ , I was hustling! I was just earning the type of money that everyone else is too scared to go after!” He raised his voice even more, each word fierce. “The type of money that no one else would even risk trying to get! I’m so fucking sorry that your job sucks and my choices in life are better and ten times more satisfying than yours will  _ever_  be!”

“Illegal money, Madej! Illegal!” His grip was tight on the wheel, looking like he was about to rip it right from the dashboard. “Stealing from the public, you son of a-”

“Well if you care so much about money being stolen from the public, then why do you work for the government, huh?” Shane spread his arms expectantly. “Fucking riddle me that, Ryan!”

Ryan let his head hang, sighing forcefully. "Just shut up. Shut up."

Shane gave the pages in his hand a sharp shake, sitting back in his seat. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

After a few minutes silence, Shane spared a quick glance at the man beside him. Ryan was still gripping the wheel like he wished it was a certain someone's neck, his jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead, yet not quite looking at the road.

"Jeez, you're really against it, aren't you?" asked Shane, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, what? Crime?" Ryan spoke in a forcibly light voice. "Yeah, it's not my favorite thing in the world."

Shane gestured at the pages in front of him. "Well you see all this? I've already spotted at least eleven ways in which they could've doubled their income. But they didn't."

"And?"

"It's all clean. So far."

"There's still a bootful of accounts, Madej." 

"Look, it's basic laundering, right?" Shane went right ahead, acting as if he didn't notice the anger growing on the other man's face. "See this here, the ones circled in red? I thought maybe they were smurfing - which is when the money's all broken down and taken in separately to stop it looking too shady - but it's not, it matches up with these ones over here. Their invoices are all balancing too. I thought maybe they'd be doing the old-fashioned trade-based laundering, just under-valuing invoices to hide the money being moved around, but nope."

"And what did you do?" Ryan turned his head to raise an eyebrow at him. "I don't remember hearing any of that in your trial."

"Because I'm a _professional_ , Bergara." He replied with an easy smile. "Remember?"

* * *

_"Your Honor, I didn't do that at all." Shane leaned forwards to the microphone, eyes still looking up at the judge. "I'm a professional, and I'd like to be treated as one."_

_"So then how did you transfer all this money, Mister Madej?"_

_Shane threw a smile at the detective leaning against one of the pillars along the side of the court. Bergara looked at him expectantly, arms folded across his chest. Oh, he'd managed to catch the actual physical cash and track it back to Shane, but he hadn't managed to figure out how it had been done. Which was half the reason he'd turned up today, discharged himself from the hospital. The other half was just to revel in his moment of triumph._

_"It's called round-tripping, Your Honor." He moved to stand in front of the table, as if he was one of the lawyers, and not the literal defendant. "I'd deposit the money in a, um, in a controlled foreign corporation. Offshore, of course. Usually a tax haven, where there's fuck-all records kept."_

_"Language, Mister Madej."_

_"English. Anyway, then the cash would simply be shipped back as a foreign direct investment, exempt from any bitch taxes." He shrugged. "Or I'd simply smuggle the cash physically. Which is where our dear detective Bergara got lucky."_

_Ryan spared him a dry smile as the people in court starting muttering among themselves, internally furious at how the other method had slipped right past him who knew how many times. Oh, Madej never truly lost. He always won in some aspect. A verbal jab, a witty comment, a reveal of how he actually succeeded in his crimes, like a magician revealing how he performed his master trick. It was infuriating._

_"And do you plead guilty on all charges of..." The judge squinted through his glasses at the list in front of him. "...money laundering, tax evasion, identity theft, bribery, embezzlement, counterfeiting, defalcation, and forgery?"_

_Shane had looked right at Ryan, who had looked right back, a smug smile already spreading across his face. They kept their eyes locked, hearing the court quite literally holding its breath, waiting for Shane's reply._

_"Yes. Your Honor."_

* * *

"I honestly thought you were going to bust a nut right there and then."

"When I heard you officially plead guilty?" Ryan smiled, a big bright one. "Oh, almost."

Shane sat back in his seat, the breeze from the window lightly ruffling his thick hair. "Almost? I didn't leave you unsatisfied, did I?"

"Oh, no. Not at all." Ryan was still smiling, his teeth catching on his bottom lip. "It was afterwards. You remember afterwards, right?"

"Ah." Shane rolled his eyes. "When you acted like a total brat?"

"When I bathed in my victory? Yes." Ryan inhaled deeply, letting out the most wistful sigh Shane had ever heard. "Seeing you standing behind those bars was the happiest moment in my life. It really was."

"Uh, I believe I was lounging," corrected Shane, resting an arm on the car door, giving up on even pretending he was working. 

Ryan's smile slipped slightly. "Yeah, actually. You were. Kind of took away from my enjoyment of the moment, but I still soaked it up.”

* * *

_“Ah, detective.” Shane looked at Ryan over his glasses, closing over his book. “Come by to gloat, I assume.”  
_

_“Oh, most definitely.” Ryan pointed at him through the bars, a bright smile on his face. “Fuck you, Madej. I got you. I won. I’m the winner._ You  _lose. You fucking loser.”_

_“At least I’ll lose with dignity and grace,” shrugged Shane, crossing to the bars, resting his arms on them with the air of a man not facing thirty years in prison. "And with a tiny bit of satisfaction at how it all went down."  
_

_"Satisfaction?"_

_Shane reached through the bars, poking Ryan hard in the stomach, forcing a snarled curse from Ryan's mouth as the detective backed away. "Still hurts?"  
_

_"Yes it still hurts." Ryan stayed a safe distance now, resting a hand over the bandages hidden under his shirt. "But I'd have taken five bullets if it meant I'd win."_

_Shane still stood relaxed against the bars, elbows resting on the horizontal, hands loosely gripping the vertical. "You haven't won quite yet, Bergara. I'll promise you that."_

_“Oh, you promise me?" Ryan rolled his eyes, wondering how even though he was currently triumphant, he still felt as if he was losing. "Yeah, I'll take your promises so seriously while you're stuck in prison for the next thirty years. Have a good time."  
_

_Shane sighed heavily, watching him. "So that's it, then? You're not gonna miss me?"_

_"Miss you?"_

_"I'm gonna miss you, Bergara. I won't lie." He smirked at him, seeing the shorter man's eyes narrow. "You kept me on my A-game. I was the most productive I've ever been in the past three years alone."_

_"Shut up."_

_"The amount of illegal things I did," said Shane wistfully, resting his head against the bars, gaze fixed dreamily on the ceiling. "Oh, such fun. Really. And you never found out half of it."_

_Ryan suddenly grabbed hold of the bars, making Shane straighten up, looking down his nose at the shorter man. "It's over, Madej. It's done. You lost. Stop trying to piss me off."_

_"No.” He suddenly grabbed hold of the shorter man’s tie, yanking him forwards so that his face and the bars got nicely acquainted. Ryan yelped, gripping the bars tightly as Shane wound the tie around his hand, pulling. “Screw you.”_

_“Let go!” Ryan stuck his arms through the bars, slapping at the taller man, not quite close enough to land a solid punch. “Let go, you fuck!”  
_

_“I’m gonna choke you to death with your own tie, Ryan! How’s_ that  _for dignified!”_

_"Jesus Christ!" Ryan managed to get free, yanking his tie loose again, glare fixed on the taller man. "You are so lucky these bars are here, dude. So lucky."_

_"Oh yeah?"_

_"Yeah. Because I want to taze the fuck out of you right now." He brusquely turned away, fuming. "I hope you die in there, you asshole. And I never have to see your stupid face again."_

_"We'll see, little guy." Shane watched him storm off down the hall, seeing Ryan throw a quick look back at him before going through the doors. "We'll see."_

* * *

"That is _not_ what happened," said Ryan firmly. "You never tried to choke me to death with my own tie. That's bullshit."

"Uh, I believe it's called wishful thinking." Shane watched yet another group of buildings pass on by, a glimpse of civilization. "C'mon, man. I'm dying for a coffee. I'm dying for a taste of the real world."

"You know you're not allowed- Hey, don't roll your eyes at me."

"I didn't!"

"I saw you in the mirror!"

Shane glanced at said traitor mirror, his eyes landing on Ryan's. "Oh yeah? Well can you see this?" He flipped him off, a blatant action. "That nice and clear for you?"

Ryan shook his head in disapproval, glaring at the road. "Just go back to your work, would you?"

"You distracted me!"

"You're acting like a fucking child, dude."

"I'm cramped in here, Bergara!" He fiddled with the side of the seat, suddenly flying back, the seat coming to a jarring halt. "Woo! The thrill!"

"Stop fucking around my car!" Ryan sighed sharply, forcefully. He was beginning to realize that Shane, like a toddler, was getting restless being cooped up for so long. "Look, we'll stop at the next place. But until then, I don't want to hear you, dude! Not a word! Just- Just work!"

* * *

They'd agreed that perhaps the handcuffs weren't necessary. Ryan didn't want anyone asking questions, in case it gave the Tromps a reason to pick up the pace. Shane simply just didn't want to wear them, insisting they'd get in the way of his work. It was only a quick stop in a Starbucks, in the middle of a small, lively town. What could even happen?

"Look, you stay here," said Ryan sternly, pointing at the outside table they were currently seated at. "I can see you through the window, so don't even try anything funny."

"No funny stuff," replied Shane in a mock-strict voice, sorting through the accounts in his hands. "Sir yes sir."

"What do you want?" asked Ryan flatly. "Americano? Cappucino? Maybe a babyccino, since you're acting like such a-"

"-baby," finished Shane dryly, raising an eyebrow. "Wow. Good one. As a reward, you can just get me whatever you want."

"Cool." Ryan felt for his wallet in his pocket, just to make sure Shane hadn't swiped it. "Gives me a chance to talk to the barista for a bit longer."

Shane glanced over his shoulder, seeing the barista in question. A man. “That sounded a bit gay, Bergara.”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “I guess.”

Shane frowned at this. “Huh?”

“Well, I am a bit gay.” 

A pause. “…Oh.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, heading for the door. “No need to look quite so stunned, Madej. It’s not a secret. I’m bi.”

Shane nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I just, uh, I didn’t know.”

“And now you do.” Ryan let the door swing shut behind him, wondering why he felt like it could’ve been a bad idea to tell the other man what he’d just told him.

Because it wasn't a secret. At all. It clearly had just never come up in conversation between the two of them. Because they never really had normal conversations in the first place. Why would Shane know his archenemy's sexual orientation? Ryan, on the other hand, already knew Shane’s preferences. He’d found out the first day they’d actually met, face-to-face. He and Helen had gone into Shane’s office, and he’d been there. Not alone, though. Another man had been sitting up on Shane’s desk, and Shane himself had been mid-make-out session with the guy. Even as the door swung shut, Shane only tilted his head aside, raising his eyebrows at the two cops as the man on the desk - who later turned out to be his receptionist - continued running kisses along his neck.

“Ah, detectives,” said Shane, an easy smile on his face as he absent-mindedly pulled the guy on the desk closer against him. “You’re here.” 

Ryan had simply stared back, eyes narrowed, mouth hanging open slightly. Helen was highly uncomfortable, enough for the both of them. But Ryan knew this tactic. Oh, get the cops uncomfortable, they’ll wait outside for a moment, give whoever was in the room time to hide anything needing to be hidden. So Ryan had folded his arms and just waited, an eyebrow raised, watching Shane’s smile slip slightly.

“Whenever you’re ready,” said Ryan dryly. 

Shane held his gaze. “Of course.”

Then Shane had simply grabbed the face of the man in front of him and kissed him hard, passionately, a truly steamy action, going right in with the tongue. And Ryan remembered one word flashing through his mind at the time. Just one.  _Damn_. Shane had opened his eyes, making direct eye contact with Ryan, as if the noises he was causing the man on the desk to make were just a second thought. It was a hell of a power move. Ryan still couldn’t deny it. But he sure as hell would never admit it. Even the way Shane had just waved for the guy on the desk to leave, not taking his eyes from Ryan's, the two of them continuing to stare each other down even after the door had shut. It was a scene that had been both extremely macho and extremely gay, simultaneously. Helen had felt very out-of-place.

"What would you like?"

"Uh- Uh, just two cappuccinos, please," said Ryan distractedly, leaving the money down on the counter.

But despite the rumors and jokes that had grown around the subject, they'd never quite been _attracted_ to each other. Not truly. It would’ve been a bit difficult, seeing as the only times they were in the same room was either because Ryan was chasing him or because Shane was wheedling his way out of a possible arrest. But they had always been impressed by each other. Shane’s mastery of his activities was not something to be brushed aside, and Ryan’s dedication in tracking him down had been an eternal thorn in Shane’s side. So why the hell was he so concerned about the fact that he'd told Shane he was bisexual? It wasn't going to change anything. They were still them. Madej and Bergara, matching each other move for move, too busy trying to keep the other away to think about bringing him close. But now? Ryan found himself staring blankly at the shiny counter in front of him, eyes wide.

"That your friend out there?"

Ryan blinked himself back to reality, staring at the man. "Huh?"

The barista nodded at the window, a frown on his face, his marker hovering mid-air near the cup in his hand. "Is that guy your friend?"

"Oh, no, we're not- Fuck!"

Shane was halfway across the street, skidding to a halt to let a truck fly past before continuing on as fast as his long legs could carry him.

"MADEJ!"

He threw a glance back over his shoulder as he ran, the accounts gathered in a bundle in his arms, flapping in the wind. Ryan was already hot on his tail, tearing down the street after him, wishing the sun wasn't so glaringly warm as he attempted to keep the red flannel shirt in sight. He followed Shane into what appeared to be the main square, dotted with tables and chairs and a hell of a lot of tourists, probably also stopping over on a long road trip to the back end of nowhere. Shane wove through the people, throwing apologies left and right, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes to see Ryan vaulting a bench only a few meters behind. What, the guy knew fucking parkour now? Shane skidded around a corner, flying down the stone steps in front of him, shoving tourists and locals aside as one. He just had to lose him. He just had to-

The gunshot rang out, making him skid to a halt as the people around him screamed as one. Shane dropped the accounts instantly, raising his hands, turning to face Ryan with a small smile. Ryan was storming towards him, gun still aimed at the sky, showing his badge to the surrounding terrified observers. 

"I thought we didn't need the fucking handcuffs," panted Ryan, forcing the taller man to turn around, slipping the cuffs around his wrists. 

"Well sorry you're such a fucking tool, Bergara." Shane paused in his heavy breathing to swallow, throwing an apologetic look at the audience surrounding them. "Nothing to see here, people. Just a guy trying to live, laugh, and love."

"Why the fuck did you bring these?" Ryan crouched down to gather up the scattered pages, ignoring Shane's orders to stop, he was crumpling them, they'd been organized! "If you were gonna bolt?"

Shane paused. "Habit."

"Habit?" Ryan grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back through the crowd towards the main square. "The only habit you have is pissing me off."

"I can walk myself, Bergara." He pulled his arm away, glaring down at the man as Ryan turned to face him. "I don't need you leading me like you're walking a fucking dog."

"You're right. Even a dog wouldn't do what you just did, because dogs are loyal and pure!" He jabbed a finger into the taller man's chest, hard. "What you need to be is locked in the fucking boot with a gag and a blindfold on, so I don't feel like murdering you every five seconds."

"That sounds a little bit like kidnapping." 

"Oh, does it?" Ryan continued walking, seeing Shane's tall shadow following his. "That's just inaccurate, because if I was going to kidnap you I'd have to want you for some reason. And I sure as fuck do not."

"Oh bite me, Bergara."

"You can forget about your stupid coffee too."

Shane let out a frustrated shout, bordering on stomping his foot. "This is bullshit! What did you expect me to do? Just wait outside for you like a good little criminal?"

"Just get in the car!" shouted Ryan, oblivious to the people beginning to watch their very public altercation. "Get in the fucking car!"

"This trip is a fucking nightmare!"

"It's not a trip, you ass! Stop calling it a trip!" He slammed the car door after him, returning two minutes later with the coffees that the barista had kindly gone ahead and just finished making, since they were paid for. "Look. It's your coffee."

Shane glowered at him, a moody pout that would've suited a teenage girl a bit better than a bearded man in his early thirties. "How the fuck am I supposed to drink it?"

"You're not." Ryan flung the coffee out the window, the drink splattering across the ground. "Yeet."

"Fuck you! Oh my _God_ , fuck your whole life, you bitch!"

Ryan took a long sip out of his own coffee, a forced smile on his face. "Mm! Fucking delicious."

Shane kicked his feet up on the dashboard, pushing himself up off his seat, attempting to loop his handcuffs down and under his legs. "Oh just you wait. Just you wait, I'll- I'm gonna-"

"You really think you're that flexible?" asked Ryan incredulously, starting the engine. "For real?"

"My legs are just too long!" He slumped back halfway down the seat, legs still up on the dashboard. "I can do it when I'm not in a car. I can."

"That's just not true. I mean, look at you. You're eighty percent leg."

Shane watched him out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should risk doing what he was about to do. _Yes, Shane. Yes you should_. 

"You fucking- Noooooo!" Ryan stared down at his spilled coffee, Shane's kick having splattered it not only on him, but on his car door too. "I'm gonna kill you. I'm actually going to kill you."

"Please fucking do, Ryan!" He pushed himself straighter in his seat, holding the other man's furious stare. "Put me out of my misery already!"

"Yeah, I knew it was you idiots." TJ appeared in the window beside Shane, raising an eyebrow. "We can hear you from across the lot, you fucking tools. Why are you handcuffed? And why do you have coffee all over you?" He blinked. "And why the fuck is the bottom panel of your dashboard off? Some of those wires are live, Ryan!"

Ryan sat back in his seat, taking a breather, similar to Shane beside him. "We need to swap. We need to swap, just for a few miles."

"Please," added Shane, his voice truly desperate. "Please, I'm begging you."

TJ pondered the pleading, lips pursed. "Right. Right, yeah, you go with Kelsey then."

Ryan felt himself relax the second Shane left the car, sighing heavily, like a balloon deflating. Holy fuck, that got out of hand very quickly. The car bounced slightly as TJ sat into it, grinning at the worn-out Ryan.

"Hey, Ryan." He gave him a playful nudge, seeing Ryan's eyes open. "Let's talk about you and Shane, hm?"


	4. Night Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo writing tropes is fun

_Ryan burst through the doors to the office, skidding to a halt on the rug, breathing heavily, like he'd just ran up five flights of stairs. Which he had. Madej's office was on the top floor, and coincidentally enough, the elevator was 'out of order'. He could hear his team yelling at the rest of the staff behind him, telling them to get down, to place their hands on their heads, that they have a warrant to search the place. Shane sat lounging in his chair, one arm resting along the back of it, the other propping his head up. The picture of nonchalance. It was ruined ever so slightly by the light flush across his cheeks, his hair windswept, his eyes glittering. He was trying to hide it, but his chest was rising and falling a bit too fast for it to be normal._

_"Get up, Madej." Ryan moved further into the office, running a hand back through his hair to try and get it to sit just a bit more neatly. Tearing through the streets of Perth at an unholy pace tended to make you look a little untidy. "Don't try and bullshit your way out of this one. They mentioned you by name."_

_Shane raised his eyebrows, remaining relaxed in his chair. "Who mentioned me by name?"_

_"The guys down at the harbor," replied Ryan sharply, leaning across the desk. "Smuggling in thousands of dollars in cold hard cash. They mentioned you."_

_Shane shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about."_

_"Oh, you don't?"_

_"I don't."_

_He did. He knew exactly what Ryan was talking about. He knew that the smuggled cash down at the harbor had been found, and searched, and that he'd been snitched on. He'd spent the last twenty minutes panicking, racing around the offices, helping his staff shred this and hide that and stuff this in your bra, Sharon! Ryan was watching him like a cat watches a fish in a tank; arresting Shane was so close, but so goddamn far. He just had to find some way to break the glass. To get through the last barrier._

_"Get up," ordered Ryan, circling the desk to him. "Now."_

_Shane did so, taking his time about it. Ryan's time didn't matter to him, after all._

_"Arms out."_

_Shane raised an eyebrow, half-heartedly raising his arms. "Feeling frisky, hm?"_

_"Feeling like putting you away once and for all, Madej."_

_"Need to stand on the chair?" Shane pressed his lips together to hide his smile. "I'll only laugh a little bit."_

_Ryan ignored the jab, frisking him with a bit more force than necessary, desperate to find something. Anything. "Against the wall."_

_Shane rolled his eyes, moving to the wall and leaning back against it, arms folded. "Hey, careful with that! It's mahogany."_

_Ryan continued yanking the drawers of the desk open. Empty. Each one empty. "Where's the accounts, Madej? The guys mentioned accounts."_

_"What guys?" asked Shane icily. "Did they have names?"_

_"I'm not going to give you their names."_

_"Lucky for them."_

_Ryan moved to the bookshelves, simply pulling the books out, dumping them on the floor. "Oh quit complaining, Madej. I'll tear this place apart for those accounts."_

_Shane narrowed his eyes at him. "Do you want to specify, maybe? I'm an accountant, after all." He picked up a piece of paper off the desk, covered in scribbled figures. "See this? An account." He picked up another, feigning shock. "Oh my holy fuck, it's another account! In an accountant's office! In an accounting firm! Call the fucking national news, Bergara. It's a miracle."_

_"Shut the fuck up." Ryan turned as Helen appeared in the doorway, looking just as on edge as he was. "What? What is it?"_

_She glanced at Shane, then back at him. "We can't find anything."_

_"No. No, there has to be something." He turned to Shane, who stood with a smug smile on his face, hands in his pockets as he sauntered across the office. "You dick. What did you do with them?"_

_The taller man took a deep, leisurely breath, looking down his pointy nose at him. "As I already said, I don't know what you're talking about."_

_"Just spit it out, Madej. Or I swear to God I'll give the green light to my guys to really have a ball here. Really go to town."_

_Shane leaned back against his desk, hands still in his pockets, head tilted slightly to one side, baring his throat. Not exactly the poise of a man who felt threatened, or intimidated. He had a talent for nailing the appropriate gesture for any occasion; a flickered raise of an eyebrow to show his disdain, a vague wave of his hand to convey his impatience, a slow blink to portray his disinterest. Ryan, on the other hand, preferred to use his words._

_“Keep looking,” said Ryan fiercely, moving towards the rest of the offices. They were sprawling, desks fit together like Tetris blocks, his team still searching them thoroughly. "They said- They said a blue binder. A blue one."_

_He could feel Shane at his shoulder, turning to look at him. "Back up a bit, yeah? I can feel your air intake. It's like a gross nasal jet."_

_Shane kept his face blank, taking a purposeful step forwards, the shorter man backing away as he did so. "I-"_

_"Hey, Ryan!" It was Steven, standing up on a swivel chair, Andrew keeping it from rolling away. "The roof! There's something in the panels!"  
_

_There would've been a prolonged silence taut with panic, if there had been time allowed. But without hesitation, Steven punched the panel above his head. It lifted out of place, the pages contained above fluttered down from the ceiling, scattering across the ground like large, illegal snowflakes. Now there was time for the silence, interrupted only by the sound of a blue binder dropping from the gap in the ceiling to thud against the floor. Then came the screaming._

_Shane bolted instantly, the rest of the room erupting into hysteria at the fact that this entire place was going down, and going down hard. Andrew abandoned his post beside Steven's chair, letting him topple to the ground as the cops present ran to seal any exits. But there were many exits, for one reason; Shane was prepared. Shane was always prepared._

_"Move!" shouted Ryan, chasing the tall figure of Shane through the yelling and the shrieking and the general panicking. "Get out of my way!"_

_Shane flew down the corridor, grabbing hold of the banister to yanking himself into a sharp right-angle turn down the stairs. He threw a look back over his shoulder, skidding to a halt so suddenly he slipped down the steps, the bullet from Ryan's gun grazing his shoulder before splintering the plaster wall beside him. Ignoring the glaring pain from his tumble, Shane kept going, hearing another gunshot, another round of alarmed shouts. He slammed to a halt against the sturdy reception desk, which had already been abandoned at the sound of the commotion, as they had been told to do. He reached over it, pulling open the bottom drawer._

_"Don't run, Shane!" Ryan came down the steps with such haste he basically stumbled to a halt, raising his gun, holding it like Bruce Willis in_ Die Hard _. "Don't fucking run! I- Oh fuck!"_

* * *

"He shot you?!" TJ blinked in shock. "For real?"

"In the side, yeah." Ryan took a hand off the wheel to tap the area. "Kind of around here?"

"What did it feel like?" The man seemed genuinely interested, eyes wide. "I've never been hit. I've never actually been in a gun fight at all."

"It didn't hurt at the beginning," said Ryan slowly, sifting through his memories. "It- It felt like I'd been hit with a baseball bat or something, at first, but more numb? I just looked down, and I could see blood, and I was like 'oh shit!' and _then_ the pain came." 

"And? Was it like it is in action movies and shit?"

Ryan hesitated, throwing him a quick glance. "Uh, not really."

* * *

_"Fuck!" Ryan dropped his own gun, clutching his side, the blood welling through his fingers. "Oh fuck me! Oh my God!"_

_Shane was staring at the wound, eyes wide, his face pale. "Oh no. Ooooh no."  
_

_"Oh you bastard!" It was beginning to burn through the numbness, like a flame through a piece of paper. "Oh fuck! You shot me!"_

_"No, no, I didn't- I didn't think I'd hit you!"  
_

_Ryan took his hands away, staring at the bright red blood on them, mouth hanging open. "Fucking call an ambulance! Call a fucking ambulance right now!"_

_Shane scrambled for the phone on the reception, hearing Ryan still cursing and shouting and threatening in the background. "Hi, hi, yeah, could I get an ambulance to-"  
_

_"Fuck me, oh fuck." He was beginning to feel it now; the throbbing heat, like someone was pushing a bundle of hot spikes into his skin. "You dick. You dick, Shane, I can't believe you did that."_

_"I just said I didn't-" Shane paused, finished with his phone call. "Are you crying?"  
_

_"It's fucking painful, Shane!" He was doing what they did in movies, applying pressure to the wound, but it was almost unbearable. "In the stomach? You had to hit me in the stomach? That's the worst place to get shot!"_

_"Oh I'm so sorry, princess! Was there a place you would've preferred to get blasted by a bullet?"  
_

_"The shoulder! Shoulder meat!"_

* * *

"He was right, though." Shane shrugged, feeling at ease for the first time since the trip started. Probably because Ryan wasn't sitting a foot away from him. "It probably would be better to be shot in the shoulder."

"If there was a place on the body that would be the best place to get shot, it would be the shoulder," said Kelsey, nodding in agreement. "Why'd you ring him an ambulance though?"

Shane threw his hands up in the air, shaking his head. "Why does everyone ask that?"

"Because he was, like, your nemesis!"

"He wasn't!" He sighed in exasperation. "Look, I didn't like him. But I didn't want him to fucking die!"

Kelsey raised an eyebrow. "So you got yourself caught because you called the guy trying to catch you an ambulance?"

Shane slumped back against his seat, scowling out the window. "Yeah. Yeah, basically. But I was fucked anyway. I got found out, and that was it for me. My reputation..." He blew air out through his mouth, his fingers moving with it. "...gone. With the wind."

She grinned, taking the turn for Bathurst. "You know, I'd heard things about you. So cunning, so crafty, so heartless. But you have a heart, Shane Madej."

"I- I have a heart of solid steel," he replied sternly, folding his arms across his chest. "Of fire and brimstone, that men tremble to behold."

"You've a heart of candyfloss."

"Whatever. You don't know me." 

She was quite for a moment, wondering if she really wanted to start fanning this flame. "I'd heard other things, too."

"Mm?"

"About you." She paused, smiling to herself. "And Ryan."

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Kelly."

"Kelsey."

"Kayla." He continued on before she could correct him again, distractedly fiddling with his shirt sleeve, tucking it more firmly into place around his elbow. "We were never like that. We never wanted to be like that. Well, I didn't, anyway. I was busy."

"Why not though?" She spared a quick glance at him, seeing the distant look in his eyes. "You never once thought about it?"

"No. Not once."

"You know he digs guys sometimes, right?"

Shane threw her a dry look. "Are you being serious right now? Like, for real?"

"Yeah! He likes men. And women. But sometimes men."

"No, not about that. About trying to fucking set us up or some shit."

She shrugged, still smiling mischievously. "Well, it could be fun."

"It would be my worst nightmare."

"It's a long road ahead of us, Shane. You'd never know."

"Uh, we could find the Tromps in literally ten minutes," replied Shane flatly.

"Or ten days," she said lightly, the buildings beginning to gather around them, growing higher, grander, the streets growing busier. "You might just find yourself- Oh look, it's TJ and the Ry Guy."

Shane frowned. "The Ry Guy? Please tell me that's not a thing."

They pulled over in the same parking lot, but not right beside them. Kelsey removed her badge, made herself look less police-y. Shane didn't need to try and look casual. His red flannel and sunglasses didn't exactly scream 'suspicious'. The only thing that would make anyone look at him twice was the way his hair was standing on end, involuntarily styled by the wind coming in through the window. He attempted to pat it down, giving up and just running a hand back through it. Squirrel hair. That's what Rubin had called him the night they'd been in adjoining cells. Yeah, he was glad she'd been brought into the fold. He might need her someday soon.

* * *

"And you're saying you've never even considered it."

"Teej, shut up." Ryan threw a glance at where Shane was currently stretching beside Kelsey's car, arms above his head, hands gripping the opposite elbows. "Don't start trying anything weird, okay?"

"Look, I'm a straight guy _and_ I'm married, but he's attractive, Ryan."

"No, he's not," replied Ryan firmly, closing the boot, leaning on it for a moment, the metal hot under his hands. "You've never had to talk to him for more than five minutes."

"But he-"

"I don't want to hear it, TJ!" He narrowed his eyes as Shane spotted them, giving a wave so overly enthusiastic it was impossible to take it as such. "God. What a douche."

"But tall," replied TJ, straightening up himself to emphasize his point. "Broad shoulders. Nice physique."

"Awful personality," added Ryan, swinging his bag up onto his back.

"Great hair."

"Shitty attitude."

"Strong nose."

"He shot me once."

"And his voice when he's angry?" TJ gave him a wink. "Now _that's_ sexy."

"Stop," said Ryan sharply, raising a hand. "Stop pointing out... things."

TJ gave him an amused smile, getting a glower in response as Kelsey and Shane joined them. The latter took off his sunglasses with his usual effortless chill, slipping them onto the front of his shirt. 

"So what now?" he asked, clearly disinterested in whatever the answer was going to be. "Stick up a poster, saying 'hey Tromp family, stop being shit'?"

"There's a hotel over there," said Kelsey, already moving towards it, her bag bouncing on her back. "Pretty expensive, but it's cool. They do a couple's deal."

Ryan frowned at these words, reluctantly following. "A couple's deal?"

"Yeah, some romantic getaway thing. Reduced price."

He swallowed, not liking how TJ and Kelsey were walking ahead, beginning to chat between themselves. "And what, uh, relevance does that have?"

"It's like, 25% off, Ryan." TJ shrugged, already with an arm around Kelsey's shoulders. "Just do it."

He wandered to a halt, eyes wide. "But why? Just- We can just pay full. Right?"

"Oh don't be such a wimp, Bergara." Shane stood beside him, giving his hair a playful ruffle, grinning at the disgruntled look on the shorter man's face. "If they can do it, so can we."

"They don't hate each other," replied Ryan dryly.

"That is certainly valid." He shrugged, continuing on. "We'll just be two guys who hate each other then. Do they do any deals on that?"

TJ threw a look over his shoulder at Ryan, raising an intrigued eyebrow. "What has you not wanting to do it, Ryan?"

Ryan ignored this. "It-"

"Quinta's gonna be pissed, Ry," said Kelsey lightly. "All the other places around here are expensive too. This is the cheapest, if you take the deal."

"But I don't want-"

Shane sighed heavily. "Just fucking do it, Bergara."

"Stop pressuring me!"

"We just have to fucking hold hands or some bullshit." Shane grabbed his wrist, yanking his hand up before roughly interlocking their fingers. "See? It's really very easy."

Ryan pulled their hands back down, glaring at him. "This is stupid. I don't want to do this."

"Loosen your grip there, would you?" muttered Shane, glaring down at him. "You don't see TJ trying to snap Kelsey's neck."

"Your hand's clammy."

" _Your_ hand's clammy." Shane pushed open the door after TJ and Kelsey, basically dragging the shorter man through after him. "Just play the damn part, Bergara. Be good at something for once in your life."

"Hi!" smiled the woman at the reception, all forced happiness to cover internal rage. Similar to anyone who deals with the public regularly. "How can I help you?"

"Room," said Shane simply, pulling Ryan right against him, arms wrapped around him. "For me and the love of my life."

The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously, glancing at Ryan's flushed face. "You're looking for the weekend deal?"

“Oh yes! For me and my little honey-boo,” continued Shane, quite convincing as he cupped the shorter man’s face with a bit more fervor than necessary, pulling him forwards a step. “Oh, look at you. With your little chubby cheeks and your big eyes and your smile that lights a fire within me. I just love every inch of you, baby.”

Ryan swallowed, wondering why his heart fluttered at the last sentence. “…Yeah. You’re- Uh, I love you.”

“Everyday,” continued Shane, pulling the shorter man close against him, an arm around his shoulders. “I think to myself; how did I land such a hot piece of ass?”

“Shane. Sweetie. Ha ha."

“And the sex?” Shane leaned forwards, his voice hushed as he spoke to the baffled receptionist. “He may look like a cherub, but he’s a beast in the sheets, if you get what I mean.”

“I think that’s enough,” said Ryan in a forcibly light voice, hitting Shane sharply on the chest. “Honey.”

“Maybe you’re right," smiled Shane as the receptionist went ahead with the transaction, truly not really giving a shit. "They’ll be hearing all about it later, anyway.”

“Shane. Shut up.”

The taller man led him towards the elevator, key in hand, still talking loudly. “But I’m just expressing my pure adoration for you! The whole world deserves to know how lucky I am to get to spend such a wonderful, long, never-ending amount of time with you!” He hit the second floor button, still holding Ryan close, ignoring his subtle struggles. “The light of my life! The fire in my loins! The-” He stopped the second the doors slid shut, pushing Ryan away. “Yeah, great acting, Bergara. You really nailed it.”

“I was acting normal!” replied Ryan fiercely, his heart racing for a reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Or just wouldn't accept. “You were acting like a crazy person!”

“You’re right. Only a total madman would ever let you be the light in his life, or the fire in his loins!”

“Holy fuck, shut up!” Ryan turned away, glaring straight ahead at the doors. “Don’t talk to me until morning. I mean it.”

“Daunting. Really, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.”

The doors finally slid open with an accompanying ‘ding’, Ryan taking off first, bag swinging wildly from his shoulder he was walking with such hurry. Shane dragged himself after him, shoulders slumped. He closed the door of the simple, clean room behind them, feeling a wave of dread at the sight of the double bed plonked right beside the two windows that let in the sunlight from outside. No, not dread. Something, some feeling that made his insides clench. It wasn't very nice.

“If you snore tonight,” said Ryan moodily, dumping his bag on the ground. “I’m just going to end it. Right here. Your life. I’ll  _end_  it.”

“What a loving partner I have.” Shane collapsed back on the bed, hands resting on his stomach, eyes closed. “I struck gold with you, I really did.”

Ryan wiped his hand on his shirt, glowering at it. "Great. Now I have to cut this off."

"Drama queen."

"Don't get comfortable," muttered Ryan. "We have to go."

"What?" Shane propped himself up on his elbows, watching warily as Ryan turned away, opening up his bag and pulling out a t-shirt. "Where the hell do we have to go?"

"To look for the Tromps, you idiot."

Shane swallowed, not replying for a moment as Ryan shrugged his very federal-looking shirt off, throwing it aside. "They, uh, where do we start? Though?"

Ryan shrugged, attempting to maneuver his more casual t-shirt correctly, slipping his arms into it. "First step is to leave the hotel. Duh."

"Uh, yeah." Shane sat more upright on the bed, unable to look away from the way the muscles moved in the other man's back as he tugged his t-shirt over his head, pulling it down. "Yep. Leave hotel. Good idea."

"I know." Ryan suddenly moved towards him, reaching down and yanking the sunglasses off the front of his shirt. "And these are mine, you ass."

"Whatever." 

* * *

They had not exactly been lucky in tracking down the Tromps. The family were most definitely elusive to the max. There'd been an altercation outside the courthouse earlier that day, however. What witnesses thought was a family argument, in which one of the members stormed off. No one remembered to where, though. Or what caused him to leave. By now, it felt like they were chasing their own tails. Which family member had bailed? Mark or Mitchell? The father or the son? None of the people present at the courthouse at the time could remember.

"Why didn't you just flash your badges?" asked Shane wryly, opening the door back to the hotel room, switching on the light. It was late. Later than they'd intended. "You never had any hesitation doing that with me."

"Because if the Tromps hear, they might get panicked," replied Ryan slowly, tiredly. "Look, I don't feel like arguing with you tonight. Just leave it."

Shane blinked at the genuine weariness in the other man's voice. "You okay?"

"I'm tired. I'm just tired." He fell forwards onto the bed, slipping his arms under the pillow in front of him, burrowing his face in it. "I just want to sleep."

And surprisingly, Shane didn't attempt to whip him up into a frenzy, like a child poking a caged animal with a stick. He listened to the sounds of Shane getting ready for bed; the tap turning on and off, the scrubbing of a toothbrush, the switching on and off of lights. Then the creaking of the bed springs as Shane got in beside him, the tugging of covers, the few sighs as he got comfy. Was this actually going to be a night of sleep? Ryan could hardly believe it.

“OH FUCK YEAH, BABY!”

Ryan jumped in fright, rolling over to throw a stunned look at the man beside him. "The fuck was that?!"

He watched the silhouette of the taller man push up onto all fours, grabbing hold of the headboard. "Ugh, harder!"

“Shane, shut the fuck up!”

“Let’s rock and roll, buckaroo!”

“Shane!”

“Ugh,  _fuck_!” The sound of the headboard hitting the wall joined in, steady, rhythmic. “Fuck yeah! YES!”

“Shane shut the hell up!” Ryan pushed himself to his knees, hurrying to grab hold of the headboard and keep it from bashing a hole through the wall. “What the fuck are you doing?"

"I told the receptionist she'd hear us! And I'm a man of my word, Ryan."

"Are you fucking insane?”

He could hear Shane breathing heavily, his smile audible. “Nah, I’m just fucking.”

“If the Tromps are around here-”

“Oh, what?” Shane sat back in the bed, on his knees, his hands on his hips. “They’ll be terrified of two guys being dudes?”

“They’ll-”

“Oh come here, baby.” Shane suddenly grabbed him, pulling him halfway over the bed, arms wrapped tightly around him. “Don’t be like that.”

“Shane, stop.” He tried to wriggle out from the man’s arms, his face pressed against his chest. It was suddenly way too much. “Get off me!”

Shane, as one would expect, didn’t let him go. He put his mouth right against Ryan’s ear, letting out a low, convincing moan, feeling the shorter man’s hands tighten on his arms as he did so. Ryan eyes flew wide open at the sound, at the proximity. At how hot it was.

“Get off!” Ryan suddenly shoved him hard, wrenching himself out from the man’s arms. “Fuck you! What the fuck?”

Shane shrugged. “Look, I’m just playing the part, but I cannot work in these conditions.”

"Don't fucking do that again," shouted Ryan, his heart racing, eyes fixed on what he presumed were Shane's. It was hard to tell in the dark. "I swear to God, dude, don't do that."

"Jesus. Calm down." Shane ran a hand back through his hair, his panted breaths mixed with laughter. "Your reactions are priceless, Ryan. Really. You never fail to amuse me."

Ryan let himself fall flat on the bed again, bundling up under the covers. "Shut up. Just go to sleep. Just fucking sleep."

Shane was quiet for a moment, a moment that had Ryan's shoulders so tense that any hard physical contact would've ended in a broken bone. Then he just lay back down, much to Ryan's relief. The shorter man stayed awake, anxious, listening to the other man's breaths grow longer, deeper, a sign that at least one of them had embraced sleep.

But Ryan was busy feeling anxious. Not about what had just happened, really. No, anxious about why exactly he'd reacted to it the way he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my exams finished today so woop woop i can just write now


	5. Bathurst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late upload, i've been working a lot recently and im always just so tired when i get home woops

It was strange. It was strange seeing Shane just wearing normal clothes. Ryan couldn't deny it. For the entire time he'd known him, Shane had always worn a shirt, a tie, and his glasses. It fit the part, really. He looked the innocent accountant, always had. And although it had almost been two days now, Ryan still wasn't used to seeing him just in a Tommy Bahama shirt, shades on, lazing in the sun that was bathing the outdoor seating area of the cafe in warmth. Really, it suited him more than being cooped up in an office all day. Maybe, he wasn't that type at all. Maybe that was why he'd started delving into shady business. Got bored of regular accounting, needed something to liven up his work life. And unbeknownst to Ryan, Shane was actually staring back from behind his sunglasses, wondering what the hell he was looking at. 

"Ryan, stop staring at me, you creep."

The shorter man jumped, as if someone had shocked him. "Shut up. I wasn't."

"Oh for God's sake." Kelsey rolled her eyes, a dramatic gesture. "Just act as if you can even tolerate each other. _Please_."

"This is fucking stupid." Shane looked downright miserable, his chin resting on his hand as he stared into his cup of coffee. "One night is okay. Two nights? It's off."

"The Tromps are still around," insisted Kelsey, keeping her voice quiet. "They have to be. So we need to stay!"

"Look, I am giving this my all," said Shane sincerely, sitting forwards. "But he just won't cooperate."

"I won't cooperate?" Ryan stopped pushing his breakfast around his plate to scowl at the man next to him. "I will cooperate. I would. If you could just stop being a total ass."

"Look, Ryan," he said, in a voice that made it obvious that one hell of a lecture was coming. "I'm acting all lovey-dovey. I'm trying to act like the couple we're supposed to be acting like. I am acting my fucking ass off out here, but you just won't play your part! Commit, man! Give me back what I'm dishing out!"

"No, no, hold on." Ryan turned slightly in his seat to face him more directly, a warning finger raised. "I'll say it again; we don't need to act all loved-up. TJ and Kelsey aren't!"

"Oh, we went through our backstory," said TJ with a simple shrug, as if it was the only logical thing to do. "We're two friends who got married young, but don't actually love each other anymore, but we don't hate each other either. A divorce is too much of a bumpy road, since we have two young kids and a dog, so we're staying together for tax benefits while being in an open relationship."

"Oh, oh, that's good," said Shane, an arm landing on the table as he turned to glare at Ryan beside him. "What's our backstory, huh? Maybe you can make that bit up, since I'm doing literally everything else for us."

Ryan gritted his teeth in irritation, unable to even look at the guy in case he just flipped. "I'm not talking about this. It's too early."

"Hey, I know what your backstory could be," said Kelsey lightly, folding her arms on the table in all earnest. "You're not married yet, you've just been together for a while, right? But you've gotten to that stage where breaking up would be just as much hassle as getting married, so now you're just slugging it out, waiting for something to trigger the next step."

TJ nodded solemnly. "That's perfect."

"It's not-" Ryan dropped his head onto the metal table of the outdoor cafe, only able to hold it for a few seconds before the metal got too hot. "We're here looking for the Tromps. Not to see who can act like a better couple or some shit."

"Well we'd definitely lose, Ryan." Shane raised an eyebrow at him, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. "Because of you."

Ryan ignored the attempt at starting yet another argument, folding his arms on the table. "Look, we're here to find the Tromps. We're here to find out why they left. So let's just get into the theories."

Shane gave a sudden nod of approval, taking a sip from his coffee. "Mm, I like that."

"Huh?"

"The way you said that. It was very satisfying."

Ryan put on a deeper voice, cool, like a character on CSI. "Let's get into the theories."

"Hell yeah," grinned Kelsey, very supportive altogether. "Lay it out, Ryan."

"The family have no history of mental illness. No sign of drug use, no outstanding debts that could cause them to run, no church or cult shit." He paused for a moment, trying to recall what he'd discussed with his team. "Brent said-"

"Who's Brent?" asked Shane absent-mindedly, seemingly completely uninterested in anything he was saying. 

"He's our forensics guy. Now shut up." Ryan continued on. "Brent said that maybe they'd been poisoned by a toxin or something on the farm, that could've made them have all these bizarre delusions. But we couldn't find anything, while we were there."

"Mold," interjected Shane, as if it was a full sentence. "That's all I got. Some moldy Cheerios. Maybe some bad cheese?"

"Shut up. God damnit." Ryan battled on, well aware of the amused smile thrown his way by Shane. "Another line we were thinking of was maybe the mob. Maybe they could be involved. They-"

"Bullshit," interrupted Shane yet again, waving a hand vaguely in the air. "Next."

"Stop interrupting me!"

"Listen, I know what's going on." Shane shrugged lightly. "I studied psychology for a while."

The three cops stared at him, faces ranging from doubtful to curious.

"Look, when you build up a certain amount of cash," said Shane slowly, seeing Ryan's jaw clench at the words. "You can kind of do whatever you want. I built up a lot of cash. So I did what I wanted. And there was a condition called _folie à deux_ , which in French means 'madness of two'."

"Oh, what, you studied French too?" asked Ryan dryly. "With all your cash?"

"I dabbled," replied Shane, just to annoy the guy. He'd only remembered the translation from the Wikipedia page. "Basically it affects close family. Kind of like group hysteria. Couples, parents and children, siblings, all that stuff. It's all delusion and paranoia, and the people involved tend to, uh, reinforce the other's feelings."

"Now that you mention it," said Kelsey, suddenly quite serious. "A close friend of Jacoba, the mother, said that Mark and her were starting to be all stressed out all the time. Thought someone was trying to rob and kill them."

"Maybe someone _was_ trying to rob and kill them," persisted Ryan, not giving up on the mob aspect quite yet.

"Well we don't know," said Shane in exasperation. "So let's just find them already."

TJ finally spoke up, still staring directly at Shane, as he had been for the past ten minutes. "What shampoo do you use?"

A pause, in which the three other people exchanged confused glances.

"Uh, any shampoo around," answered Shane after a while, wondering if there was a twist somewhere in the question.

"Because I have good hair, okay," said TJ as he leaned forwards, as casually as if he hadn't just sprung this topic out of literally nowhere. "Nice beard. Y'know yourself. But I have to stick every sort of product up in my hair to get it half as full of life as yours is."

"Yeah, what do you use?" asked Kelsey in earnest. "It's so _luscious_."

Shane shrugged. "Well, like, nothing."

“It just stands up?”

“Well, yeah." Shane shrugged again, staring at the dregs of his coffee as he leaned forwards. "It kind of just… does it.”

“So like, if I do this?” Kelsey reached over, pulling lightly at a few strands. They gradually fell back into place, defeated by gravity. “Aw.”

“Nah, you’d have to be more like this,” said TJ, ignoring the flat look on Shane’s face as he lightly ran his fingers through his hair, raising his eyebrows at Kelsey as he did so. “See? It… Oh. It’s kind of falling.”

“Why don’t-” began Shane, leaning on the table.

“What about like this?” added Ryan, moving forwards, pushing his fingers right through Shane’s thick hair, harder than the other two had. A sure, strong movement.

The three of them watched with faces ranging from delighted to alarmed as Shane suddenly grabbed hold of the arms of his chair, eyes closing, inhaling deeply through his nose, Ryan’s fingers still running through his hair. The shorter man instantly whipped his hand away, Shane visibly relaxing with a sharp exhale through his open mouth, eyes still closed. A look of pained embarrassment was on his swiftly-reddening face. Ryan was staring at him with wide eyes, holding the wrist of the hand like it might touch the other man again of its own accord. The only sounds were the buzzing of traffic and the chatting of the other people sitting around the square. Shane kept his eyes closed, unwilling to look any of them in the face. Unable to. Especially Ryan. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to look at him again.

“Oh my God,” said Kelsey slowly. “Oh my  _God_.”

“I- I’m gonna just-” Ryan didn’t finish his excuse, bolting from the table, mouthing the same sentence to himself over and over.  _What the fuck? What the fuck?!_

"What the hell was that, man?" asked TJ, still smiling brightly at the situation. "I mean, the fuck?"

"It wasn't anything." Shane looked like he wanted to run and never stop running, but unfortunately, he was not allowed. "Don't talk about it."

Kelsey watched Ryan disappear around a corner a bit further down, his panic palpable even from this distance.  "Is- Did you do that because he touched you?"

"No!" he insisted, knowing full well he was lying through his teeth. 

"You slept in the same bed last night, right? We did." 

"Yeah. We slept in the same bed." He could still remember the feeling of Ryan's hands on his arms, gripping them tightly, making him feel just a tiny bit jittery. "We did the same the night before. It's not important."

"Did something happen?" asked Kelsey urgently. 

"Don't talk about it," replied Shane so savagely the other two immediately shut up, deciding to do what he said. "Don't fucking talk about it."

A silence ensued. A silence that consisted of Shane glowering into his empty mug, Kelsey wondering when she was allowed talk again, and TJ still pondering what products Shane used. It was finally broken as Ryan suddenly reappeared, smacking his hands down on the table with enough force for the cups and plates to rattle. 

"Peugeot SUV," he said breathlessly, still flushed, but not from the same thing as five minutes ago. "The Tromps were driving a Peugeot SUV, right?"

TJ watched him closely. "Yeah. Right."

"It's them." He quickly explained to them what he'd seen; a car of the exact description given, and four people gathered around the bonnet, talking in a very secretive manner altogether. "It has to be them."

Kelsey blinked, before scrambling to her feet. "Then let's go! Come on!"

"No!" Shane seemed taken aback by his own shout, halfway to his feet, hands pressed to the table. "Uh, you don't- What if they're armed?"

"They probably won't be," said Kelsey simply, grabbing her purse off the table. 

Shane hurried after them, mind racing almost as fast as he was. "But- But none of you have your official stuff!"

Fortunately, he was right. A quick plan was decided upon; TJ and Kelsey would haul ass back to the hotel to get their identifications, while Ryan would keep an eye on the Tromps, make sure they stayed put, and if they didn't, follow them for as long as possible. It was all made a bit too swiftly for Shane's liking. He ran off after Ryan, turning the corner the shorter man had fled down only minutes ago, down a narrow alley between two apartment blocks. Ryan skidded to a halt behind a gathering of trash cans, looking out onto the parking lot that lay on the other side. 

"That's them," he said, putting an arm out for Shane to stay back. "That has to be them."

"Pff, it's not them," said Shane dismissively, ignoring the arm, placing a hand on the metal lid of one of the trash cans. 

It was them. From a distance, the four people seemed like a normal family. The sort of family you'd see on the front of a religious brochure. Up close, they still looked like a normal family. A mother and father, Jacoba and Mark, and two daughters, Ella and Riana. Which meant Mitchell, the son, must've been the one who had bolted. No, in order to see anything strange about them, you'd have to look right into their eyes. See the internal panic, the true fear at something. Something you most definitely did not want to ask about.

"It's definitely them," hissed Ryan. "It's-"

Shane let his hand slip, the lid of the trash can falling to the pavement with a deafening clang, rolling in noisy, tinny circles for what seemed like a lifetime. The Tromps whipped around to face them like deer who had heard a distant gunshot. 

"No!" Ryan burst forwards, seeing the four people scrambling to get into the car. "Wait, I-"

He barely got two strides in before Shane's leg got in his way, tripping him up, sending him sprawling on the pavement. The taller man swiftly followed, collapsing right on top of him, the two of them cursing as his chin hit off the side of Ryan's head. An engine revved up, tires burning the tarmac as the Peugeot SUV tore off down the street, and away for who knew how much longer. Forever, maybe. Ryan rolled sideways, finding Shane's wide eyes inches away.

"What the fuck, Shane?" He looked furious, propping himself up on his elbows. "Are you fucking serious?" 

Shane took a moment to get his voice working again, blinking, his arms hooked under Ryan's, hands pressed to the hot pavement. "Uh, I didn't mean to. Oops."

"Oops?! That's all you have to say?" Ryan gave him a harsh shove, sitting upright. "That's the closest we've come to the Tromps so far and you fucked it up! I knew you'd be a liability!"

"Calm down, man!"

"Calm down?!" Ryan shoved him again, seeing the irritation flicker across the taller man's face as he did so. "I feel like fucking killing you! That was them! That was it!"

He flipped them, hard, and Shane actually let him. The taller man muttered a curse as his head struck back against the pavement, but he didn't take his eyes from Ryan's. He simply lay, hands raised to shoulder height, Ryan holding fistfuls of his shirt collar.

"God, I want to-" Ryan exhaled sharply, forcefully, his grip tightening on Shane's shirt. "You idiot!"

Shane still didn't talk. He was breathless, in every sense. He blinked, like a rabbit frozen in headlights. Ryan narrowed his eyes at him, bewildered by the lack of reaction, his grip gradually loosening on the shirt. _Oh no_. His breathing slowed, eyes fixed on Shane's. _Shit_.

"Hey!" TJ skidded into view, eyes wide as he whipped from side to side. "Where are they? Where's the car?"

"They're gone," said Ryan sharply, making sure to press down unnecessarily hard on Shane's chest as he pushed himself to his feet. He heard the irritated curse from the other man as he did so. "This fucking idiot fucked up. They saw us."

"It was an accident!" Shane also got back upright, rubbing his chest ruefully as he glared at the shorter man. "I didn't mean to. It wasn't my intention. Sorry."

"You don't exactly sound sorry," said Ryan icily. 

"Oh, sorry that I don't care about any of this since I was dragged on this trip against-"

"It's not a trip!" shouted Ryan. "Stop calling it a trip!"

"Woah, woah, what the hell is going on?" Kelsey was taking her phone from her ear as she came around the corner, her eyes wide. "Where's the family?"

"Don't get them started again," said TJ quietly. 

"Helen called," said Kelsey, swiftly changing the subject. "Guess who turned up home, safe and sound?" She let them wait for a moment, like the audience in the finale of a singing competition. "Mitchell Tromp."

* * *

They spent the evening in the bar of the hotel. An area that should've been full of rest and relaxation, but was instead occupied only by three cops and an ex-criminal. The bartender was popping in and out, but none of them were really ordering anything. Just waiting. Waiting, restlessly, for Helen to call back with Mitchell's interview results. No point in following the rest of the Tromps just yet, since they weren't even sure which way they were going. Maybe Mitchell knew where they were going to go, where they were trying to end up. Ten minutes passed. Eleven minutes passed. Twelve minutes passed. Time was a thick jelly. Kelsey stirred the ice left over from her drink, watching it slowly melt, like her patience. TJ busied himself on his phone beside her, trying to guess which way the Tromps would've most likely went. Ryan was trying to not let the scratching of Shane's highlighter and the scribblings of his pen on the accounts get on his nerves. It was difficult.

Shane sat at a separate table, fingers resting in his hair as his eyes darted around the pages in front of him. And darted up, every now and then. Just a glance from time to time. And really, the best and worst thing about eye contact is the same. It’s the amount of meaning it can convey. And contrary to what one would usually think, the shorter the eye contact, the more meaningful it usually is. A split second glance. A flicker that is caught by the other person. A moment when one of the people thinks they’ll be able to snatch a fleeting glimpse of the other, only to find that the other is already catching a fleeting glimpse of them. Eyes. The one thing that you have to look at, while also being the one thing that is the most dangerous to look at.

And Ryan and Shane were hating it. They couldn't stop sharing quick glances, both looking away just as swiftly as they'd looked at each other in the first place. _Don't look at him, Ryan. Don't_. And he was trying. He really was. But it was like someone putting a cookie on a table, then telling you not to eat it. Or touch it. Not to even think about it. First, you think about it. A lot. Then you touch it. Then it's in your mouth and you're chewing it and it's gone. And it tasted all the more delicious for the simple fact that you should most definitely not have eaten the cookie. Ryan finally resorted to folding his arms on the table, burying his face in them. He was being stupid. There wasn't anything happening. He'd made eye contact with Kelsey and TJ a million times within the last five minutes. But neither of them sent a sharp shock through his chest when their gazes met, or made him feel uneasy. Jittery. Apprehensive, almost.

"Let's do something," said Kelsey, oblivious to how Ryan and Shane basically leaped out of their seats at the sudden voice. "Let's play some game or something. I'm bored as fuck."

"She'll ring soon," said TJ dismissively. 

"No, I agree." Shane turned away from his makeshift desk, resting an arm across the back of his chair. "Let's have some fun here."

"Like what?" asked Ryan dryly. "I Spy? Because I spy with my little eye a complete jerk-off who has set us back potential weeks."

Shane narrowed his eyes at him, a bitterly amused look. "Mm. Funny."

"I spy with my little eye a stupid son of a bitch who has no idea what inconspicuous means." Ryan gestured at him. "I mean, really? A floral shirt?"

"Oh, you want to complain about my clothing now, do you?"

"We're meant to _not_ be attracting attention."

"I'm not doing anything to attract attention."

"So you think no one is gonna look at you and think 'hey, has that giant aardvark in the Hawaiian shirt ever heard of a comb?'"

"And people won't look at you and think 'hey, they made steroids for toddlers!'" 

Ryan paused, eyes narrowing. "What?"

“Your face is so- so  _baby_ -ish,” he grinned, linking his hands behind his head as he sat back in his seat. “But your body is- is-”

“Not baby-ish?”

“Yeah,” shrugged Shane with a small smile. “Not baby-ish.”

Their eye contact lingered for a second longer than necessary before they were promptly reminded that it wasn't just them in the room.

"I spy with my little eye," said Kelsey slowly, a finger in the air. "Tension. Of the sexual kind."

"Oh please." Shane turned back to his work, quickly hiding his face. "I'd rather fall dick-first into a blender."

Just as he'd hoped, this got a laugh. The situation quickly diffused, back to casual chit-chat and another drink for Kelsey. Ryan spared a quick glance at Shane, just a quick one. Their eyes met for a split second, just a split one. Then they looked at each other. Really looked. It was a disaster. Ryan eventually turned away, his lips pressed firmly together. He wished he could physically grab hold of his common sense and give it a shake, maybe get it to start working again.

Helen's phone call pointed them in the direction of the Jenolan Caves. Mitchell said that was the next stop on their journey. But Mitchell didn't say anything about why the family was even undertaking this journey in the first place. He seemed just as baffled by it as the police were. Shane and Ryan resorted back to the same car, seemingly without conversation. TJ and Kelsey didn't ask why. Even Shane and Ryan didn't ask themselves why. They all knew why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "y'know yourself" is a pretty irish phrase meaning "you'd know all about it" but in a friendly way. because i think tj is partially irish because on one of his instagram posts he says "fad saol agat" which means "have a long life" in irish and also i just accidentally typed it before realizing no one outside of ireland would truly Get the Vibe


	6. The Jenolan Caves

_It was a hot day. The station was stuffy. The interview room occupied by one detective and one accountant was even stuffier. The heat was almost unbearable. Helen, Steven and Andrew observed from behind the one-way window. Steven and Andrew didn't really have to. But the whole dynamic laid out in front of them was basically like an episode of an enthralling episode of some crime thriller. And it was reaching a peak._

_“Oh, so you never go to the Harbor, no?” Ryan pushed the photos across the table, folding his arms again. “Because that’s you. At the fucking Harbor. Who’s that with you?”_

_Shane raised his eyebrows, picking up the photo and studying it closely. “I don’t think that’s me.”_

_“That’s you, Madej. Cut the bullshit.”_

_“Nah, that’s not me,” insisted Shane, tapping the photo that was blatantly him. “That’s my evil twin. He’s a bad egg.”_

_“Your evil twin.”_

_“Ooh, yes. Nasty guy. You ever seen that episode of The Simpsons where Bart finds his evil twin in the attic?” Shane threw him a quick finger gun. “Me and Bart have a lot more in common than you’d think.”_

_Ryan didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. “Who is that in the photo with you.”_

_Shane bit back his smile, leaning back in his chair, resting an arm over the back of it. “I don’t recall.”_

_Ryan picked up the photo, holding it up. “This is very suspicious, Madej. Looks very bad for you.”_

_“Mm. I tend to attract things that are bad for me.” He leaned forwards, folding his arms on the table. “Did you know I once had an affair with a mob boss? It was insane. He was good. Real good.” He grinned at the flat look on Ryan’s face. “He may have been the boss in his business, but I’ll tell ya, he wasn’t the boss in bed.”_

_“Stop fucking around.” Ryan got to his feet, hands on his hips. “And start answering the questions.”_

_Shane shrugged. “I want a lawyer.”_

_Ryan smiled at this, circling the table slowly. “You know the type of people who ask for lawyers?”_

_Shane leaned back in his seat with a relaxed stretch, one hand on the opposite elbow, tilting his head back. “Smart people?”_

_“Guilty people.” Ryan placed a hand on the table in front of Shane, leaning in towards him. “So you have two choices here. One is live up to your cocky shit-talking attitude, and try and defend yourself. The other is hire a lawyer to protect you, and get brutally fucked in court. Up to you.”_

_Shane was quiet for a moment, silently judging his choices. “Well, I do love getting brutally fucked.”_

_Ryan smiled, wandering around the back of the chair. “You’re funny. You’re a funny guy. You make me laugh.”_

_“What’s this? A compliment?”_

_“An acknowledgement.” Ryan arrived on the other side of him, sitting on the table, arms folded across his chest. “You’re good at what you do. I’ll admit that.”_

_“Yes. I’m a fabulous accountant.”_

_Ryan looked away, gritting his teeth in irritation. “Yeah. You’re definitely that. Anybody would be lucky to have you.”_

_“Mm.”_

_“But maybe there’s some people out there that you wouldn’t be so lucky with.” Ryan watched the other man’s face, closely. “Some clients who have their fingers in too many pies.”_

_“I’m loving the dramatic buildup, Bergara.” Shane gave a little shiver. “Ugh. Chills.”_

_“Such as this man in the photo.” Ryan saw the easy smile falter just for a split second, Shane folding his arms. “I know who he is. I was just wondering if you’d lie. And you did.” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “You went in a bit too hard with the dramatic irony, didn’t you?”_

_Shane’s face was blank now, carefully guarded. “No comment.”_

Here we go _. “This mob boss you had an affair with.” Ryan placed his fingers lightly on the photo, turning it. “A nice looking guy, I’ll give you that.”_

_Shane stayed quiet, eyes narrowing slightly._

_“But it didn’t end too well, did it?” Ryan pulled a face of mock-pity. “You were a bit of an asshole to him in the end. He was very verbal about that.”_

_Shane’s teeth gritted, but this was the only reaction. He was good at reigning himself in, especially when he was angry. He had a cold anger, one that lingered for however long it took for him to get revenge. So different to Ryan, who had a fiery one that would only take an hour of furious arguing to burn out._

_“And you know what they say.” Ryan searched Shane’s face closely for any reaction, anything at all. He knew what to look for by now; a flicker of a raised eyebrow, a clenching of his jaw, a slight narrowing of his eyes. All three boxes were ticked with the next sentence. “No one can hate you more than someone who used to love you.”_

_Shane was silent for a long while. “No comment.”_

_“So you don’t use the fourth port on the Harbor as a loading bay for physical cash?”_

_“No comment.”_

_“And you aren’t expecting a delivery tonight at half eleven?”_

_Shane looked away, glaring at the wall, looking back. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s some dodgy activities down there. But you can ask around all you want. My name isn’t going to be found.”_

_Ryan strolled back around to his side of the table, hands on his hips, fingers just about touching the badge on his belt. “That’s all your riding on, isn’t it? Trust.”_

_“Some businesses rely absolutely on trust,” replied Shane dryly. “And my business is still going fine.”_

_“Not for much longer.” Ryan leaned across the table. “It’s gonna crumble to dust. I’m gonna take it down. Hard. And you with it.”_

_Shane also got to his feet, enjoying the way Ryan had to straighten back up in order to keep eye contact. “Well I’ll tell you something, Bergara. You can lie and cheat and scrounge your way to try and hurt me and my business, but you get too close and I’ll give it right back.”_

_“Oh, is that so?”_

_“I hold grudges, Ryan. It’s something I don’t like about myself, but I do.” Shane rested his hands on the table, leaning forwards. “You take me down, and I’ll take you down twice as hard. You won’t even see it coming.”_

_“You threaten me again and you’ll be getting a taste of your future.” Ryan held his gaze, unwavering. “Or maybe a night in a cell is exactly what you need.”_

_“Oh, maybe it is. Because there’s nothing that fuels me more than spite.” Shane could see the spark of anger in the shorter man’s eyes, the spark he was just dying to whip into an inferno. “You have a lot riding on this, Bergara. A lot riding on me. Don't you?"_

_Ryan took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "A bit."_

_"You're like me at the end of the day." Shane went on before the shorter man could fiercely object. "You want to be on top. You want to be the best at what you do. And taking me down is your way to the next level." He watched as Ryan circled the table again, their eyes locked. "Well I like to be on top too. And I am. And I'm not going to slide back down the ladder because of you."_

_"The ladder." Ryan kept his voice low, threatening. "You can forget climbing up or falling down the ladder. Because I'm gonna break it."_

_Shane inhaled deeply at this, lips parted slightly. "Oh, are you?"_

_"I'm gonna break it, and I'm gonna break you." Ryan narrowed his eyes up at him. "It's all I'm living for by now."_

_"I'm flattered. Really, I am."_

_Steven and Andrew shared a look, Helen frowning slightly. It was quiet for a minute._

_"Are they flirting, or am I reading this wrong?" asked Andrew, looking from one to the other._

_"They have the hots for each other so bad it's almost painful." Steven shuddered. "Jesus."_

_"Don't." Helen shook her head, giving them a warning glance. "They're completely oblivious. Let's keep it that way."_

_"Huh? Why?"_

_"So Ryan doesn't get distracted!" She rolled her eyes. "He's an emotional guy, you both know that. Right now, he thinks the sexual tension is just regular tension. He's working so hard to bring Shane down because he thinks it's just hate he's feeling."_

_"Uh, and also maybe the fact that Ryan is a cop and Shane is a straight-up criminal? I think that's reason enough." Andrew shrugged. "But go off I guess."_

_"If anyone alerts him to the fact that he's crushing on Madej, he'll lose focus," continued Helen with a firm nod. "He'll slip up. It'll be a disaster."_

* * *

The difference between the first few questionings and the last few was astounding really. The first ones had been light, full of jokes and wit, the two of them sizing the other up, both mentally and physically. The last few had been... different. They had been intense, angry, so much so that Ryan had had to swap with the closest detective on some occasions, the days when Shane had just been full to the brim with acidic comebacks. And he was beginning to realize that this change in dynamic had not just occurred simply because of their rivalry. It had been tension. Tension that they’d both been equally unaware of, but fully involved in. 

It was getting dark by the time they reached the Jenolan Caves. They parked relatively far away, to avoid letting any noise scare the Tromps further. If the Tromps were still even there. Mitchell Tromp had said that the family had been discussing the caves as the next pit-stop in their runaway journey, for what reason, who knew. There didn't seem to be any reason for any of their actions at all.

"But there has to be a method behind the madness, right?" Ryan was mainly talking to himself, waiting for TJ and Kelsey to get back from their scouting. The caves were large, sprawling, surrounded by low foliage and a small lake as well. "Because they're definitely running _from_ something. They're not just running. They-"

"Shut up. Oh my God." Shane was lounging back on the bonnet of the car, hands linked behind his head as he watched the stars gradually beginning to poke their heads out. "It's only been five minutes and you're already driving me insane."

"I don't care." Ryan didn't turn away from watching the trees below them, rustling in the warm breeze. Lots of trees. Lots of places to hide. "I'm trying to pretend you're not here. Some cooperation would be greatly appreciated."

Shane didn't reply, glad to do exactly that.

Another five minutes passed. Then another. Ryan checked his phone every two. The metal staircase set into the edge of the caves behind them remained empty and quiet. Ryan turned back, hands on his hips, glaring at the tall figure of Shane very much relaxed on the bonnet. He looked like he'd fallen asleep, hands still linked behind his head, eyes closed, chest rising and falling with each leisurely breath. He gave a little wriggle of his shoulders, letting out a sleepy sigh.

"You know, this is so much better than jail."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. "Oh. Is it."

"It's everything I missed about the outside world. Nature, man. It's beautiful." He half-opened his eyes, throwing him a lazy smirk. "Too bad you're here."

"Ha. Good one." Ryan wandered towards him, folding his arms across his chest as he came to a slow halt beside the bonnet. "So you're a big nature lover, are you?"

"Not until I was thrown into the slammer. So thank you for opening my eyes to the wonderful world around us."

Ryan stayed quiet, still looking at him. Shane looked back. The breeze rustled the leaves, filling the silence for them. 

"Why did you do it?"

Shane raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Money-laundering." Ryan sounded genuinely curious, a small frown on his face. "What made you do it?"

"Oh, Ryan." Shane closed his eyes, turning his head back so that he was facing the sky again. "Let's not bring out the backstories here. I don't want you getting the wrong idea, thinking we're friends. That would be messy." He took a deep, relaxed breath, speaking on the exhale. "Especially now."

Ryan paused in turning away. "Especially now?"

Shane's relaxed breath froze. "Hm?"

"You said 'especially now'. What does that mean?"

"I don't think I said that."

"Well I heard it, Shane. Loud and clear." Ryan turned back to face him, very much intrigued as to what he'd meant. "Why'd you say that?"

Shane opened his eyes again, fixing the other man with a witheringly dry look. "You're gonna crack out the naive act, are you?"

Ryan watched as Shane pushed himself off the bonnet, stretching leisurely. "The what act?"

"The naive act. The one you do when you try to find out information without letting the other person know you're doing so. It's very covert." He adopted the pose Ryan was currently sporting; a hand on one hip, the other resting on the back of his neck, his hips casually angled. His voice took on the casually provocative edge of a Bond girl. "But I just don't get the way your client chooses the companies to invest in. They seem so _random_."

Ryan gave him a flat look, dropping his hands back to his sides. "I never did that."

"Wait, so it takes twenty-four hours for a transaction to go through?" continued Shane, moving to stand at Ryan's shoulder, one hand on the bonnet like it was a desk as he spoke right into the shorter man's ear. "But how many transactions can someone do at one time?" He pushed a hand back through his hair, tilting his head back, pushing his body against Ryan's. "Isn't there, like, a limit? Oh, there is? What is it?"

"I didn't do that," said Ryan dismissively, glaring at him over his shoulder. "You're exaggerating."

"You either did it or you didn't, little guy."

"And you didn't act the idiot in return, no?" Ryan placed a finger on his bottom lip, a mock-confused frown on his face as he turned to face Shane, keeping his body pushed against the taller man's. Shane didn't back away. "Oh, those? They're not my accounts. They must be my coworker's. I'm just holding them for a friend!"

Shane slipped an arm around the shorter man’s waist, leaning forwards as Ryan leaned back, like two lovers on the front of a cheesy romance novel. “Wait, Mister Madej, I don’t understand how a ledger is balanced. Could you point out these very specific figures for me?”

“Detective Bergara,” gushed Ryan, resting a hand dramatically against his forehead. “I swear, the money was just resting in my account!”

Shane looked down his nose at him with a mildly amused smile on his face, an eyebrow raised. "I'll admit, I missed your naive act after you'd abandoned it. It was a bit of a turn on for me."

Ryan rolled his eyes at this, forcing himself to turn away, feeling the hand slip off him with a tiny bit of resistance. "Well yours was just insulting. Did you think I only had two brain cells in my head?"

"They were early days, Ryan. I didn't know you'd be such a pain in the ass." Shane watched him walk around to the other side of the bonnet, checking his phone. "All I saw was a pretty face with a badge. A very frustrating combination."

Ryan threw an almost warning look at him, pausing, his phone forgotten in his hand. "Nice to know you think so highly of me."

"Oh, I do think highly of you." Shane sat back on the bonnet, hands pressed to the metal behind him. He smiled lazily. "You're the only one who's ever caught me, Ryan. The only cop who's ever had me stressed out. Worked up."

"Good." Ryan finally looked back at his phone, checking the time; twenty minutes had passed. It felt like hours. "Also, you never answered my question."

Shane took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "You're sharp, Ryan. Annoyingly so."

"What did you mean by 'especially now'?" Ryan slipped his phone back into his pocket as he wandered back to beside the driver's door. "I'm very intrigued."

"I'd say you are." Shane was quiet for a long moment, simply holding the other man's level gaze. "What do you think I meant?"

"Don't try and flip it." Ryan was smiling now, trying to hide it and failing miserably. "God, I love watching you panic. Did you know that your face just goes entirely blank when you're freaking out? It's the one thing that always gave you away."

Shane rolled his eyes, turning his head away. "Yeah, and you-"

"Don't change the subject again." Ryan responded to Shane's glare with a small smirk. "C'mon. What did you mean."

“I meant- I just-” He paused, eyes studying the sky as he tried to figure out how to phrase his thoughts appropriately. When he spoke, his words were slow, careful. “I meant that I have recently come to notice that you are… that you’re not a bad-looking man. That’s all.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows, wanting a little bit more than that. “And when did that come to your attention?”

Shane gave him a wry look. “Don’t put me on the rack here, Ryan. Don’t.”

“I’m just curious!”

“Well stay curious.” Shane straightened up off the bonnet, not taking his eyes from the shorter man’s. “And don’t start getting the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?”

“There’s a distinction here, a very important one.” Shane rested a hand on the roof of the car, the other on his hip. “Physically, you’re very attractive. I won’t try and deny that. I’m sure you’re aware of it already. I mean, you’d have to be blind not to notice how-” He cut himself off, turning his head aside. “Right. What I’m trying to say is that my body is attracted to your body. Stupidly. But I still don’t like you. As a person.” He made a small cutting motion with his hand. “The end.”

Ryan was quiet for a long moment, holding the taller man’s gaze. “You think I’m hot.”

“Yes. Yes, I think you’re hot.”

“That’s… That’s a twist and a half.”

Shane’s fingers lifted off the roof of the car as he gave a small shrug. “We’re grown men, Ryan. One of us more than the other, by a good foot or so. But my point is that I’m not going to lie about it. Or blush like a teenager.” He gestured vaguely at him. “I’d have sex with you. There. It’s out.”

“Wow." Ryan's eyes widened, taken aback by the bluntness. "You really just, uh, went for it.”

“Might as well just lay it out there.”

Ryan shrugged, arms still folded across his chest. “Right, well, if we’re gonna do that, then here’s this; I would also have sex with you.”

Shane blinked, raising an eyebrow. “You’d have sex with me.”

“Yeah. I guess.” He swallowed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’d, uh, yeah. Yeah, I would. I think you’re also attractive. Physically.”

Shane’s fingers drummed quickly on the roof of the car. He wasn’t quite sure where to look. Ryan took a deep breath, sighing heavily, forcefully. The trees rustled again in an attempt to make the situation less awkward.

“God damnit, Ryan. Why’d you have to say that?”

Ryan frowned at him. “What?”

“Why’d you have to say that you’d have sex with me?” Shane sounded truly miffed, hands on his hips as he stepped away from the car. “Why, man?”

“You said it to me!” replied Ryan in bewilderment. “You said you’d have sex with me first!”

“That was okay! It would’ve been fine if only one of us admitted it!” Shane spread his arms, turning back to face him. “But now I’m supposed to just be stuck with you twenty-four-seven knowing that you know that I want to have sex with you? And that you also-”

“Wait, wait, hold on.” Ryan held up a hand, an eyebrow arched. “You  _want_  to have sex with me?”

Shane was frozen for a second, eyes wide. “What? No. No, I  _would_ , I mean, if it had to happen. But I don’t want to.”

“You just said you wanted to!”

“God, fine!” Shane threw his hands up in exasperation. “Yes! I want to have sex with you! I want to fucking- I want to fuck you! And I want you to fuck me! And I want us to fuck each other! But we can’t!”

Ryan rubbed at his chest, where his heart was thumping hard enough to make him a little bit concerned. “No. No, we can’t. Not really.”

“So- So okay then.” Shane stood in silence for a long moment, hands on his hips, mouth a firm line. “No more double beds.”

“No more double beds,” agreed Ryan, arms folded across his chest. “And you- You have to shave.”

Shane arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“The beard.” Ryan gestured at his own face. “It’s- It’s hot. It looks good on you.”  _Too good_.

“Well then you aren’t allowed walk around with no shirt on,” shot back Shane, turning to face him more directly. “As if you don’t know how good you look.”

Ryan bit back his smile, leaning back against the car, arms folded. “I didn’t-”

“Oh, you didn’t notice how I always leave the room?” replied Shane flatly, but the smirk was slowly growing regardless of his attempt at staying serious. “It’s ridiculous, Ryan.  _You’re_  ridiculous. You have no right to be that hot.”

“I have every right! I work for it!”

“Oh, whatever.” Shane had closed the gap between them, a hand on the roof beside Ryan’s head, the other still on his hip. “No more, Ryan. No more torturing me.”

The shorter man nodded, swallowing. “Right. No more.”

“We can’t do anything stupid. We’re enemies. Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara, always at each other’s throats.” He lets the last word linger, his gaze slowly dropping to Ryan’s mouth. “Like Mr Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. Except with more crime. And guns. And cursing.”

Ryan didn’t reply. He swallowed, lips parting slightly as Shane leaned in, just close enough to be able to feel his breath hot on his mouth. He raised a hand to the collar of the taller man’s shirt, holding him away. Shane took the signal, going to back away, closing his eyes as Ryan’s hand tightened on his shirt collar, pulling him back in, his other hand floating up to take hold of the opposite side of the collar. The shorter man kept his gaze lowered, feeling Shane’s body press against his, his elbows on the roof of the car either side of Ryan’s head.

“I thought I said no more torturing me,” muttered Shane, his hands clenched into fists on the roof of the car. He thought he could feel Ryan’s lips brushing his as he talked. He was too afraid to check. “Please.”

Ryan opened his eyes, seeing the almost pained look on Shane’s face. “Fine.”

Shane allowed himself to relax as Ryan slipped out from under him, linking his hands behind his head as he let his elbows slide forwards on the roof of the car. "God. Don't do that again."

"Or what?" asked Ryan, swiftly putting the car between them. 

Shane lifted his head to reply, his eyes suddenly flickered to something above Ryan's head, his words stuck in his throat. "Don't turn around."

Ryan narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering if this was some bit. "What. What is it."

"Tromp. Daughter. On the steps." His lips barely moved as he whispered. "She's looking at us." _She's waiting for me_.

"If you're joking right now I'll kill you."

"Not joking."

And for once, he actually wasn't. Riana Tromp was on the highest metal step, blatantly watching them, letting them know they were seen. She didn't know the man with Shane Madej, other than he was a cop. She was waiting for a signal. Was it safe for her to stay, or should she leave? She waited, on edge, watching the tall figure of Shane.

Shane was busy wondering how to send her a signal. How to let her know to keep moving for now. That it wasn't safe yet. But how to do this without making Ryan start suspecting him? Shane kept his eyes on the shorter man's, moving around the car to him.

"I'm going to kiss you."

Ryan froze. "What?!"

"Well who the fuck hangs around woods so late at night?" Shane spoke quietly, convincingly. "People who want privacy, Ryan. Privacy, and pleasure. We just have to blend in."

Ryan paused. "I- I-"

"Quick. Quick, she's gonna freak," he lied, feeling a tiny bubble of anxiety at what he was about to do. "It's just a kiss. It doesn't matter." _It'll just tell Riana to keep moving_.

“Just- Fine.” Ryan took a deep breath, swallowing. "Just a quick one. I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah." He placed his hands on the shorter man’s face, tilting his head back for an easier angle. “Stay still.”

“Don’t tell me wh-”

Shane ignored the snarky reply, pressing his lips to Ryan’s. He spared a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, noticing how Riana was still hesitating on the stairs, waiting to see something more. So he upped the pressure to distract Ryan from the hand he waved at her. And immediately wished he hadn’t. A dull spark in his chest erupted into a harsh shock as he felt Ryan’s tongue brush against his, feeling Ryan’s hands move up from his chest to slip around his neck, their bodies pressing closer together. They continued the kiss without much reason to, mouths slotting together, a drive behind their movements that had been on the edge of being reigned in, until now. Shane’s hands clutched the shorter man’s back, pulling him forwards against him, letting out a quiet moan as one of Ryan’s hands ran up through his hair, gripping it. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, he could feel Ryan pushing more firmly against him, he could hear the shorter man letting out a rough sigh. They broke off for a short few seconds, neither opening their eyes, their breath mingling. And just to make things irreconcilably worse, Shane kissed him again, a lingering one, the two of them inhaling deeply, their lips taking their time to properly separate.

Then they stood. Entangled. Flushed. And terrified.

“She- Uh, she- She’s-” Ryan stepped back like a gun had been pulled on him, eyes wide as he turned away. “Gone. She, uh, gone. She  _is_  gone.”

Shane couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t look anywhere apart from at the ground, realizing his hands were shaking slightly, pulse still racing.  _Holy fuck_. He swallowed, heading back towards the car, wondering if there was a way someone could run themselves over. He yanked open the door, sat into it, closed the door, and simply let out a yell. Long and loud.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”

Then he sat forwards against the dashboard, arms folded around his head in a protective shell, where it was just him and his screaming thoughts.  _You idiot! You fucking idiot! What was that?!_  And to kiss him again? Twice?! This was going to complicate everything. Everything. Ryan remained outside the car, looking out over the waving trees, hands on his hips. He stood for a long time. Shane didn't lift his head once. He heard the crunching of approaching footsteps. Ryan opened the driver’s door, sitting in beside him, looking strangely ill. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t even look at each other.

“Kelsey text,” said Ryan, the words almost mumbled as he started the engine. “The family split again.”

Shane sat back upright, inhaling deeply. “Oh. Okay.” Just as planned.

Just one more night, he thought to himself. Just one. With Ryan. He could keep his hands to himself for one night. Fuck. And do what? Just pretend that he hadn’t gotten butterflies like a high schooler? No, no, they hadn’t been plain old butterflies. They’d been butterflies carrying tiny tazers. Whatever had just happened, it had left him electrified. It was a complete and utter disaster.

* * *

The sight of the two separate beds was enough to almost make Shane pass out with relief. He hadn't even noticed he'd been so tense for the entire drive, arms folded stiffly, eyes glued to a single space out the window. Ryan didn't speak. Not once. He simply stared straight ahead, one hand holding the steering wheel, the other resting over his mouth, elbow on the door. And for the first time, Shane missed the arguing. He rather them be shouting obscenities at each other than not talk. The silence. Oh God, the silence. Shane swallowed, closing his eyes. The prospect of having to share another bed had been about as appealing as having to headbutt a knife. And now it was them. Just them. Which was the whole plan. TJ and Kelsey had been forced to follow Riana and Ella Tromp, while he and Ryan had to track down Mark and Jacoba. No, the only bit not part of the plan was him realizing how much he wanted, and had always wanted, Ryan. It was an epiphany of the worst kind.

"Give me your room key."

Shane blinked, half-turning to throw a look at the shorter man. "What?"

"It's just me now. I don't have Kelsey and TJ to help me if you decide to try and slink away, back into the criminal underworld." Ryan put a hand out, a challenging eyebrow raised. "Key."

"Get fucked."

"Give it, or I'll take it off you!"

Shane glared at him, reluctantly taking the key from his pocket and flinging it at him. It bounced off Ryan's chest, landing on the dark carpet. "Choke on it. Asshole."

Ryan snatched it up, turning away and sitting on the edge of his bed. He gave a disapproving bounce. “Springs are fucked.”

"Oh, here we go with the complaining again."

"Wait, you think _I'm_ complaining a lot?"

"Yeah. I do."

"You've done nothing but complain!" Ryan felt his pulse pick up as the taller man started unbuttoning his shirt, taking his time with it. "About everything!"

"Because this entire thing is fucking stupid." Shane dropped his hands to his hips, abandoning his shirt buttons, which hung open till just below his chest. "Your job is shit. It sucks. My job used to be fucking incredible. And you ruined it. You absolute walnut."

"You know what? I don't have the energy to argue with you. Just fucking go to sleep.” He quickly got to his feet and turned away, as the other man pulled his shirt off over his head. “Could’ve warned me.”

A pause. “Warned you about what?”

Ryan felt himself flushing, thankful for the fact he’d turned away. “Uh, nothing. Nothing, I guess.”

Another silence. Ryan swallowed, unsure as to exactly why he felt so… vulnerable. Was that what he was feeling? No, it was apprehension. And it was awful. The quiet lingered, the only sound the rustling of fabric as Ryan shrugged his shirt off, half-folding it. God, he hated the silence. For once, he wanted nothing more than to be mid-argument, to be shouting and fighting and saying things to each other's faces without a care in the world about whether or not it might hurt. He hesitated before throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, just in time to catch Shane dropping his gaze, to catch him turn away, run a hand back through his hair. To hear him sigh sharply. 

"What's the sighing about, huh?"

"Oh for God's sake, Ryan. Just piss off."

"Then stop sighing."

"You said you wouldn't-" Shane went quiet as the shorter man turned to face him, pulling his t-shirt on over his head, nice and slow. Shane swallowed, unable to stop his eyes from taking it all in. "You said you wouldn't do this."

Ryan's hands moved to his belt buckle, starting to undo it. "You were a rich asshole, Shane. You never had a problem letting me know that you could always get whatever you wanted." He could see Shane swallow, a light flush across his cheeks. "So how about you finally learn some self-control."

Shane's fingers gripped the shirt in his hands tightly, wringing it as he struggled to hold himself back. "...I don't think I can."

"Well I don't want you to lay a hand on me, Shane," lied the shorter man, Shane pausing in crossing towards him. "Because you pissed me off. And actually, it's a bit warm." He pulled his t-shirt back off, seeing Shane's eyes glittering hungrily, even across the room. " _So_ hot. Looks like I'm gonna be spending tonight half-naked." He went to take his jeans off. "And you aren't even allowed look at me for too long."

Shane rushed to turn the light off, leaning against the wall, burying his face in his elbow. It took him a good ten minutes to calm down, the entire time spent terrified that he'd feel Ryan's hands on him, that he'd lose control. Lose focus. And it looked like it was going to be a long, _long_ night.

 


	7. A Long Night

It was a long night. Ryan lay with his eyes closed, but he wasn't sleeping. He was just refusing to look at his phone. To see just how slowly time was passing. He heard Shane roll over in the other bed, groaning quietly, gruffly. Ryan's hands clenched into fists at the sound, his teeth gritting. Every low moan, every rough sigh from the other man sent what was almost a rush of adrenaline through him, a burst of energy in the bottom of his stomach that he was struggling to reign in. The bed creaked slightly as he turned over, eyes landing on the alarm clock set between the two beds. It was only one in the morning.

Ryan pushed himself off the bed, sitting on the edge of it for a few minutes. The room was in pure darkness, the window with its thin curtain sitting as a square of pale blue-white. He got to his feet, picking up the t-shirt he had abandoned before bed, pulling it back on. He pulled a sweater on too. Extra layers seemed important right now.

Maybe he'd been stupid. Maybe he shouldn't have told Shane he'd have sex with him. Maybe he shouldn't have openly taunted him as they were getting ready for bed. Maybe he shouldn't have let Shane kiss him. And what a _kiss_. He'd never kissed like that. He'd never _been_ kissed like that. 

"What are you doing?"

Ryan realized he was standing with his fingers on his lips, mid-memory. "Nothing. None of your business."

Shane didn't exactly sound sleepy. Which meant he must've been lying wide awake just as long as Ryan had been. "Then go to sleep. You're annoying me."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you."

Ryan paused at this, seeing the silhouetted figure of Shane sit up in his bed. "Don't start."

Shane didn't reply for a minute. "Don't start what?"

"You know what."

“Oh, so _you’re_ allowed be an asshole to _me_ , and _you’re_ allowed treat _me_ like some- like some _sex toy_ , but-”

"What?!" Ryan blinked at him, baffled. "I am not treating you like a sex toy!"

"You- Whatever. Whatever, it doesn't matter." Shane flopped back down in his bed, a hand resting dramatically over his eyes, the covers still folded down around his waist. He was back up again in seconds. "Look, I don't like this. I don't like this power imbalance that's starting here."

"I'm basically your parole officer, Shane." Ryan's voice was dry, unamused. "The power imbalance is a bit unavoidable."

"You get off on having the upper hand!" persisted Shane. His mussed hair was silhouetted in the dimness, and it bounced as he gestured freely. "You’ve come to notice that as long as we don’t seal the deal, you can do whatever you want to me!"

"Bullshit."

"You’ve turned me on and left me hanging twice in the last six hours, Ryan!" replied Shane, his anger sincere. "And I’ll be damned if that’s going to become a regular thing!"

"I can't help it if you get turned on at the mere _thought_ of us having... being together." He couldn't say 'having sex'. He couldn't. If he distanced himself from the phrase, then hopefully they wouldn't discuss it too casually, and phrases wouldn't become actions. Hopefully.

"It's not just a mere thought, Ryan." Shane still sounded irritated. "You're implying it. You know what you're doing."

Ryan was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, and so what? If you ask me, it's about high time I drove you as crazy as you used to drive me!"

"Not in this way, Ryan! This way isn't funny!"

"I find it very funny."

"Fuck off." Shane lay back down with fervor, rolling onto his side. "God. You're- You're infuriating."

" _I'm_ infuriating?!"

"Stop arguing with me!" shouted Shane, sitting back up again.

"Why?" Ryan shouted back.

"Because it makes me fucking horny!"

"Well that's not my problem!"

"It's gonna become your problem if you keep fucking fighting with me!" Shane flopped back down again, his forearms crossed over his eyes. Ryan could see his chest rising and falling with each hard breath. "God, this is insane. Of all the stupid scenarios we could've ended up in on this stupid fucking trip, this was one that didn't even cross my mind."

"It's not a trip!"

"I don't care!" Shane flipped onto his front, the bed bouncing slightly with the movement. "You're fucking doing it again. By the way."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, swallowing. "Doing what?"

"Fucking- Fucking toying with me. You dick."  

A pause.

"If I _was_ treating you like a sex toy, which is, of course, entirely hypothetical..." Ryan began moving towards the bed, slowly, casually. "I'd be a lot worse than I'm being right now."

He could see Shane roll onto his back, prop himself up on his elbows. "Hey. No. This isn't funny."

Ryan sat himself down on the edge of Shane's bed, nonchalantly slipping his hand under the other man's t-shirt, pushing under the light fabric. "But you're a funny guy, Shane. Surely you of all people can see the _fun_ in all this."

Shane swallowed, pushing himself more upright as the fingers trailed up his stomach. "Ryan. C'mon, man. Don’t-" He inhaled sharply as he felt the fingers dig into his chest, sitting forwards, a hand grabbing Ryan’s shoulder, the other gripping the hand through his shirt. He was quiet for a moment, head ducked. “…Please don’t do this to me.”

“So you’ll shut up?”

“Yes. Yeah.”

“And you’ll stop talking shit?” He tilted his head back slightly as Shane leaned forwards, looking down his nose at the darkened features of the taller man. “And you’ll stop annoying me?”

“Yes." Shane gritted his teeth as he felt the hand move lightly down his body, fingertips just brushing his skin. "Ryan. I said yes.”

“I know."

"Then take your hand out."

"I am."

"Faster." His hand was still gripping Ryan's shoulder, fingers digging in. " _Ryan_."

"Fine." Ryan stood back up again, hearing the other man sigh heavily, like a weight had been lifted off him. "Go to sleep."

He heard the creak of the bed behind him as Shane collapsed back into it, dragging the covers back up over him like a protective shield. Ryan got back into his own bed, thanking the Lord Jesus Christ that they weren't sharing one. He rolled onto his side, facing away from Shane, pulling his own covers up over his shoulders, eyes wide as he held them tightly in his fists. The silence was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. It felt like it was pressing in on him from all sides. All he could think about was the other man in the other bed. And what they would probably be doing if there wasn't another bed. And how fucking stupid that would be, for him especially. How he'd most definitely get fired. How he should not, definitely not, have sexual intercourse with a high-level ex-criminal. Ryan gritted his teeth, eyes squeezed shut. His fingers were digging into the mattress like he was holding himself down. He was. He could barely breathe.

"God fucking damnit!" shouted Shane all of a sudden, slamming a fist down onto his pillow. "Fuck! Fuck you!"

Ryan didn’t respond. It wasn’t the type of sentence that required a response. He spared a glance back over his shoulder, seeing Shane lying on his back, hands on his face, elbows in the air.

“Fuck.” Shane’s voice was low now, quiet. “God. Fuck.”

Ryan swallowed, trying to call to mind all the times Shane had lied to him, and played him, and sent him chasing his own tail. All the times Shane had outwitted him, making him look like a total fool in front of his colleagues. All the occasions in various interrogation rooms, all the fighting, and the verbal sparring, and the energy that threatened to make him go insane. Ryan closed his eyes. How the hell had he been so fucking blind all these years?

And little did he know that Shane was mentally throttling himself in the bed next to him. Calling back his own versions of events, his own moments when he'd simply hated Ryan with a passion, but the passion wasn't to do with the hate. It had never been hate. It had been repressed lust and he just hadn't accepted it. For a man who considered himself relatively self-aware, this was extremely irritating. He should've clicked. He should've clicked that he wanted Ryan because he, as a person, loved a challenge. And to have his very own arch-nemesis in the form of a detective? It was every criminal's secret wish. And man, had his wish been fulfilled. Because when God made Shane Madej, She paused, took a deep breath, and made Ryan Bergara to restore balance to the criminal underworld.

Ryan stayed still as he listened to the other man throw back his covers, get out of his bed, pace back-and-forth like a Wall Street broker facing a troublesome drop in the stock market. Ryan sat up, watching the other man's tall frame pass by the window, then vanish, then pass back by the window, then vanish again. His silhouetted figure finally stopped in front of the window, facing Ryan, hands on his hips. Ryan hugged his knees to his chest as he looked back.

"I can't stay in here."

Ryan's jaw felt funny. Numb, almost. "Well you have to." All he could think of was the kiss. "So tough." God, the kiss. 

"I can’t stay in here!" Shane's voice went quiet, ducking his head aside. "I can't."

Ryan swallowed, hard. "I can't let you out, Shane. I have to keep an eye on you. Just until tomorrow." _Then Steven and Andrew will link up with us and I'll be distracted. From you_.

"Ryan." His voice was hoarse, feeble. "I won't last the night."

Ryan pulled his jumper sleeves up over his hands, his heart skipping in his chest. "Just- Just don't. Don't think about... it."

Shane was quiet for a moment. "If I went over to you right now and kissed you, what would you do?"

Ryans throat tightened at the words. "...You know. What I'd do."

" _We_ both know what _we_ would do!" He spread his arms. "I can’t stay in here. I can’t stay here knowing that I could just take you right now, that I could just-" He cut himself off, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. "Holy fuck. I want you so bad." It wasn't an attempt to push anything into action. It was simply a realization of the most desperate kind. 

Ryan hugged himself, an attempt to keep himself from springing out of the bed and onto the taller man. "I'd get fired."

"I'd get straight-up murdered, Ryan." He began pacing again, gesturing wildly. "I mean, me? Shane Madej? A damn criminal mastermind? Getting dicked down by _you_? By _Ryan Bergara_? Everyone would think I was a fucking rat the whole time!" 

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Uh, no offense, but that should be incentive enough to not have sex with me."

"But it's _not_ , Ryan." He wandered back into view. "You were right. I was a rich bastard, I always got what I wanted. And I don't know what to do when I _can't_ have something that I really, really fucking want."

Ryan got to his feet. He could almost feel the electricity, the literal sparks between them as he moved towards the door. "I'm gonna sleep in the car. And you're gonna stay in here. And tomorrow I'm dropping you off at the nearest station and you're going back to prison. The end."

A silence. "Maybe that's for the best."

"I think so." Ryan lingered by the door. "I think it's for the best."

Shane didn't respond for a moment. "You’d really risk your career just to fuck me?"

"And you’d risk your life?"

A dry laugh. A bitter one. "God. We are both so fucking desperate."

Ryan didn't smile. "Ha. Yeah."

Another minute's silence. Shane didn't go back to bed. Ryan opened the door. He closed it after him. It was a warm night. Muggy. He only made it to the staircase.

He'd been considering turning back. _Just one night_ , he was convincing himself. _Just one_. It didn't have to go past sex. Just get rid of the painful tension, and never tell anyone. Never. Pull a JFK on it. _I did not have sexual relations with that criminal_. In the end, he didn't get to make the decision for himself.

He hadn't even taken the first step down the metal stairs when the room door swung open behind him. He turned around, both his fears and wishes fulfilled simultaneously. Shane came right down the walkway with a strange mix of determination and apprehension on his face, but it was mainly hunger. 

He cupped Ryan's face, and drew him into a desperately fierce kiss. A man dying of thirst who had been given the last glass of water in existence. A rough moan came from Ryan's throat as he immediately locked his arms around the taller man's neck, being pressed back against the wall, all in a few seconds. Ryan’s reaction was both the reaction Shane had hoped for and dreaded; he kissed him back, hard. They grabbed at each other, bodies firm against each other, holding fistfuls of the other’s clothing in an attempt to get closer, to just _feel_ more. Ryan sat up on the railing against the wall, barely taking his lips off the taller man’s, wrapping his legs around Shane’s hips and pulling him closer, their mouths still glued together. He felt Shane’s hands under his legs, adjusting them more firmly either side of him as he pushed forwards, forcing a low moan from Ryan’s mouth. Shane immediately broke off, eyes still closed, his hands holding the other man’s face. For a long moment, it was just silence but for their heavy breaths, their mouths still hanging open slightly, touching.

“Stay,” whispered Shane, breathless. “I want you to stay.”

He felt Ryan swallow, felt him nod. 

They didn’t even make it back to the room before they were entangled again, mouths working against each other as they paused outside the door, Ryan letting himself be walked back through it. He slipped his hands under the taller man’s shirt, running up his sides, fingers digging into his skin. And Shane knew that if it wasn’t socially frowned upon, they’d already be fucking, right in the doorway. He wanted him. He wanted him so much it almost hurt.

Shane closed the door behind him, using his shoulder, unwilling to miss even one second of Ryan’s mouth on his. Their lips pressed together, then broke off, then found each other again, harder than before, harsher. Shane felt the door against his back as Ryan pushed him against it, hands still roaming under his t-shirt, able to feel the movement of Shane’s heavy breaths. Shane broke off to quickly pull his t-shirt off, closing his eyes as he felt Ryan’s lips against the bottom of his neck. The room was pitch black, he couldn’t see the shorter man, but he could feel him. He could feel the hand gripping his waist, the other holding the back of his neck, pulling him forwards into the desperately hungry kisses Ryan was pushing into his neck. Ryan suddenly paused, his breaths heavy against Shane’s chest, his parted lips pressed against his skin. His hands slipped around Shane’s sides, thumbs pressing into him as he heard the taller man’s low breaths in his ear, Shane’s chin brushing the side of his head. He could almost feel the battle going on in his head, his common sense against his current emotions. It didn’t take long for one to overcome the other. He let his tongue touch Shane’s neck first before placing his mouth back over it, feeling Shane’s throat grow taut against his lips as the taller man let his head fall back against the door, the hinges rattling slightly.

“Fuck.” Shane’s fingers tightened in Ryan’s dark hair, his mouth hanging open as he panted for air. “Fuck. Fucking hell.”

He grabbed hold of Ryan’s jumper, pulling it off over his head, the t-shirt with it, flinging them aside with one hand as the other hand pulled the shorter man forwards into a heated kiss. Ryan let himself be walked backwards, not having to do so for much longer as Shane picked him up, their mouths hovering centimeters apart. The taller man laid him down on the nearest bed, climbing on top, fingers making quick work of Ryan’s belt. His hands moved to the shorter man’s waist, gripping him firmly, pulling him forwards so that their hips were fast together.

Then he paused. Shane’s breaths were trembling, heart thumping in his chest as he let his hands trace up Ryan’s waist, over his ribs, his chest. Just to feel him, to feel the solidness under his hands, the realness. He could hear Ryan’s shakily quiet breaths, his hands above his head, gripping the pillow. Shane was struck with an overwhelming desire to just kiss him again, leaning in, his mouth finding Ryan’s. The feeling of Ryan’s tongue against his, their heavy breaths echoing each other, was enough to make him consider abandoning his plan, his scheme to escape. He closed his eyes, letting his lips begin to travel down Ryan’s jaw, his neck, making their way down his chest, hands holding Ryan’s waist still as he pressed frustratingly slow kisses against his stomach, which was rising and falling hard with his panted breaths.

“Shit.” Ryan breathed the word, head pushing back into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut. His hands were gripping the edge of the mattress above his head so hard it was a wonder it didn’t rip. “Oh God. Fuck. Shane.  _Fuck._ ”

Shane paused at his name, which was said just like the curses either side. And he liked it. He ran his tongue back up the center of the other man’s stomach. He felt Ryan's legs hooking behind his as the shorter man bucked his hips up at the sensation, his back rising off the bed, a trembling moan accompanying the movement. Shane took his tongue away, and Ryan dropped back down, breaths harsh and heavy.

“ _Shane_.” Ryan’s hands moved to grip Shane’s hair, fingers tangling in it. “Fuck. Fuck me.”

He let his mouth run down along Ryan’s side, the hands pushing through his hair as he had the shorter man saying his name again within seconds, his teeth grazing the spot just above Ryan’s hip bone.

“Fucking- Shane, just fuck me!” Ryan sounded desperate, the words pushing out through gritted teeth as the kisses trailed along the bottom of his stomach. “God,  _please_  just fucking- Shane.” A sharp inhale, a pause as he bit down hard on his lip. “Oh God.” A trembling exhale, the taller man holding his hips still as he went further down. “ _Shane_.”


	8. Shot Through The Heart

“You’ll be here soon?”

“Yeah.”

“How soon, man?”

“I don’t know.”

“You okay, Ryan?” Steven sounded a little but concerned, his voice marking the first instance of speech that morning. “What’s with the short answers?”

“Nothing.” Ryan was staring straight ahead at the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly it was a wonder it didn’t just snap off. “Just… Just tired.”  _Exhausted, really_.

“Cool. Well, I’ll let you know if our boy Mark pops his head out anywhere on our side!”

“Cool.”

“Okay…” A hesitant pause. “Is Madej with you?”

“Uh, yeah.” Ryan cleared his throat, refusing to look at the owner of the name. “Yeah, he’s still here.” Sitting in silence. Like he had all morning.

“How’s he finding those accounts?”

“I don’t know.”

Another pause. “Well, could you ask him?”

“I- He’s- Not right now. No.” Ryan swallowed, feeling himself flushing. “I have to go, Steven. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay… Bye!”

A low beep as the phone hung up. Then silence again. Silence but for the whirring of the engine, and Ryan’s fingers tapping agitatedly on the wheel. He snuck a sly glance at the man sitting beside him. Shane had his head turned away, arms folded across his chest. It could’ve almost been casual, if it wasn’t for the fact his shirt sleeves were bundled in his fists where he held his arms. He wore a navy button-down. He still hadn’t shaved. He had a light mark on the bottom of his neck, just above his collar bone. There’d be a similar one further under his shirt, where his neck and shoulder met. Ryan knew. He’d left it there. Ryan quickly turned his head away, feeling the flurry of chills in the bottom of his stomach again. This was bad. He cleared his throat again.

“How, uh, how are the accounts?”

Shane didn’t look at him. “Fine.”

“What does ‘fine’ mean?”

“They’re normal,” he replied, impatient. “They’re just normal accounts.”

Ryan gritted his teeth at the other man’s tone, taking a deep breath. “Right. Fine. No need to get all snappy with me.”

“Shut up.” An order, delivered strong and low.

Ryan turned his head aside for a moment. Then he turned it back, sighing sharply. “Where  _are_  the accounts?”

“I said shut up.”

“And I’m saying that you’re still under my orders, you dick.” Ryan glared at him, seeing the other man’s jaw clench at the words. “You do what I say. So where are the accounts you’re  _meant_  to be checking?”

Shane still didn’t look at him. “The back seat. The boot. I don’t fucking know.”

“Jesus Christ.” Ryan scowled at him. “What are you? An accomplished criminal or a fucking moody teenager?”

Shane turned his head to reply, their eyes meeting for only a split second before they both looked away. It was too hard. It was painfully hard to look at each other. Shane decided against answering. The silence went on. Shane rested his elbow on the door, fingers across his mouth. He shouldn’t have started what happened last night. He shouldn’t have.

Once would’ve been okay, that’s what he had told himself before he went out and kissed Ryan. Just once. Get it out of their systems. Except they ended up getting it out of their systems multiple times, well into the morning. God, just thinking about it. Just thinking about Ryan in his hands, Ryan’s mouth on his, their bodies sliding against each other in the dark room, hands grasping, fingers digging in. Each kiss had been hard enough, savage enough to carry a message;  _we’re not friends, we’re not lovers, we’re just doing this once, and once only_. And they both thought they’d be okay with that? Shane closed his eyes, keeping his head turned aside so that Ryan couldn’t see the light flush on his face. He, for one, was not okay with that. But he had to be. He opened his eyes at the sound of Ryan’s voice.

“You know, I just think it’s funny,” began Ryan, fingers lifting off the wheel to try and appear flippant. “How  _you’re_  the one who initiated last night, but now you’re acting as if I’m the one who’s in the wrong.”

“Ryan, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well you’re fucking annoying me, Shane! Sitting there all haughty and fucking snooty as if it’s  _my_ fault that  _you_  decided to bone me!”

“You see, no.” Shane put a hand out as he spoke, making a small cutting motion. “No, I knew you’d do this. You’re acting as if you didn’t have anything to do with what happened.”

Ryan paused. “Well, I had a little bit to do with it, I’ll admit.”

“You put your hand under my shirt in a blatant attempt to fucking turn me on, Ryan!” he replied incredulously, eyes wide. “You had a whole fucking lot to do with what happened!”

“Fine! Fine, whatever!” Ryan sat back in his seat, turning the wheel with a lot more force than necessary as they turned off the empty back road. “Jesus, you must be the only guy I know who gets in a mood after a night… a night like that.”

“A night 'like that', huh?” Shane smiled dryly. “You mean a night of passionate sex, Ryan? Is that what you mean? A night of hot, passionate sex? Hm?” He could see the blush appearing on the other man’s face. “A night of good old-fashioned fucking? That the type of night you mean?”

“Shut up.” Ryan couldn’t even turn his way now. “It wasn’t that good.”

“Oh, are you sure?” replied Shane with a raised eyebrow. “You sure sounded like you had a great ol’ time.”

“It was alright.”

“Ugh, Shane! Oh God, fuck!” He hit his head back off the headrest, eyes squeezed shut, one hand pressed against the window, the other gripping the back of Ryan’s seat as he raised his hips up slightly off the car seat. “Fuck! Shane, fuck m-”

“Shut up!” shouted Ryan, his heart racing. “I didn’t sound like that!”

“You sounded exactly like that! Even that lady said so!"

'That lady' was the woman who had been in the room a few doors down. They'd packed in silence, gotten half-dressed in silence, had one more round of sex not exactly in silence, gotten fully-dressed in silence, then finally stepped back into the reality of the outside world in silence. The silence was promptly broken as 'that lady' opened her door, poking her head out, hair bundled up in a towel.

“This might sound weird,” she said, toothbrush hanging from her mouth as she talked. “But how the  _hell_  do I make my man sound like that? I mean, holy shit.”

"She could've been talking about you," said Ryan moodily, shoulders hunched slightly at he glowered straight ahead.

"She was _not_ talking about me."

"You weren't exactly quiet, Shane!"

"Oh come on, man. You were definitely louder."

"I wasn't!" persisted Ryan, throwing a sidelong glare at him.

Shane pointed vehemently at him, returning the glare. “It was the best sex you’ve ever had, Ryan! Admit it!”

“No!” replied Ryan just as heatedly. “I’d rather fucking die!”

“Then crash the damn car, and put us both out of our fucking misery already!” Shane leaned forwards, his arms resting on the dashboard, hands splayed against it. “Please! Do a fucking barrel roll in this stupid car and kill me instantly!”

“Shane, I am  _begging_  you,” began Ryan, struggling to keep his voice level, his emotions in check. “To just forget what happened. Let’s just stop talking about it. Please. I’d give myself a fucking concussion if it meant I’d be able to forget about it.”

“And I’m begging  _you_  to make sure we don’t sleep in the same room tonight. Just make sure we’re in separate rooms. I’ll share with one of your stupid coworkers.” Shane didn’t need to explain why.

Because there’s a difference. There’s a difference between what he’d always assumed was good sex, and what really was good sex. It was how they ravaged each other, clutching, fingers digging into each other’s skin with the pure desperation to just  _feel_  each other, their lips barely parting but to catch their breath, or to simply apply them to a different part of the body. The unintended moans, growing increasingly louder, more untamed, similar to their actions. It had been everything they’d ever believed would just be unattainable, that was just for television, that was just unrealistic. Well not anymore, baby. Neither of them would admit it, but it had been the sort of night they’d talk about to make their friends jealous. It had been the sort of night they’d think about to make themselves wistful. It had been the sort of night they already wanted again.

"No," replied Ryan firmly. "No, you're going back to prison."

Shane didn't reply for a minute. "I'm what now?"

"This- This _thing_ ," he said, gesturing between the two of them. "This disaster waiting to happen. It's ending. Before it can take off."

"Wait wait wait," said Shane, waving a hand as if to try and grab his scattered thoughts back from the air around him. "Wait, you're just gonna fuck me and then send me back to prison?"

Ryan went quiet for a moment. "I- No, it's not like that. You _know_ it's not like that."

"It's feeling like that, Ryan!" He sounded genuinely angry, glaring at the man beside him. "Did you know that we always had this thing? Did you always want to fuck me?"

"Shane, come on, dude."

"Is that what this whole trip was? An opportunity for you to get what you always wanted and then just chuck me back into prison?" 

"No!" Ryan's eyes were wide, fixed on the road. "No, I didn't-"

"Well you're a model cop, Bergara. Really. I'm so glad we have honorable cops like you protecting us from the world-destroying, society-annihilating act of tax evasion." 

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Ryan hit the steering wheel sharply before suddenly pulling over, too angry to trust himself to drive below the limit. "This is what I meant! This is what I want to avoid!"

"What?" demanded Shane, keeping his glare locked on Ryan's. "What, me pointing out that you're a little shit of a human being?"

"I didn't know I wanted to fuck you until yesterday!" shouted Ryan, still gripping the wheel tight despite the fact they weren't driving anymore. "Maybe the day before! I don't know!"

"You knew that we always had this thing!"

"You're the one who insisted on helping us! Not me!" Ryan unbuckled his seat belt so he could turn more firmly in his seat, seeing the flicker of alarm on the other man's face. " _You_ were the one who wanted to come on this stupid case! I didn't have anything to do with it. So maybe _you_ wanted to fuck _me_ first." He raised a hand sharply to stop the other man from talking. "No, no, wait, you were _definitely_ the one who wanted to fuck me first. Since you think we 'always had this thing'."

Shane reddened. "I didn't say that."

"You fucking said that."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"How else could you have meant it?"

Shane raised his hands as if to talk, mouth hanging open in silence for a long moment. "I- I- Just not like that! I meant that-" He sighed sharply, letting his hands fall back down. "So you're saying you don't think we always had a thing for each other."

"I _never_ had a thing for you, Shane." He jabbed a hard finger at him, seeing the other man's mouth part as he took a long, deep breath. "I hated you. I still hate you. I hate you and everything you stand for."

"Oh yeah?" Shane undid his own seat belt, kicking a foot up on the arm rest between the two seats as he sat back, legs spread, arms folded. "C'mon. What do you think I stand for?"

"Crime, Shane. And being an asshole. And taking things that don't belong to you. And cheating innocent people out of-"

"Innocent people?" Shane laughed, a derisive sound. "Do you even know who I worked for? I worked for _other criminals_ , you little idiot. Mobs, corrupt politicians, businessmen, anyone who wanted to cover up shit they didn't want to be found." He gave a small shrug. "But yeah, sure, if calling them 'innocent people' makes you feel better about yourself, or maybe justifies your hate towards me, then go ahead. Call them whatever you want."

Ryan raised his eyebrows, spreading his arms. "Oh, oh, you just helped other criminals? Oh, that's okay then. I'm so fucking sorry, Shane, please forgive me for-"

"For ruining my fucking life, you ass!" 

"Fuck you!" shouted Ryan, seeing Shane sit up more firmly against the car door, a hard glint in his eyes. "Fuck you and your stupid fucking face!"

"You took away everything I worked for! Everything!" 

"That's my fucking _job_ , Shane!"

"Well fuck your job," replied Shane fiercely. "And fuck you."

Ryan turned away with a furious mutter, folding his arms stiffly across his chest, head resting against the window beside him. The glass was cool, the exact opposite to what he was feeling. Shane didn't move from where he was, trying to ignore the way the other man's shirt clung to his shoulders with each deep breath, the way his tilted head emphasized the line of his jaw, which Shane's mouth had explored only hours beforehand. Shane rested his head back against his own window, keeping his eyes on Ryan as the shorter man threw a sidelong look at him. He nonchalantly shifted his hips as he sat more upright, seeing Ryan's eyes flicker to watch the movement, then slowly make their way up his body. With a mental curse, Ryan looked away again, glowering out the window. He looked back. Shane sat with all the confident cockiness of a man who knew he wasn't going to jail anytime soon; one arm resting along the car door, the other elbow resting on his propped-up knee. He still had one foot on the arm rest, the other on the floor of the car, legs spread. 

"You know, Ryan," he breathed, a slight sigh to the words. "This has to be the first time I've ever wanted the law to put its hands all over me."

Ryan rolled his eyes, already halfway over to him. “God. Fuck it.”

Shane spread his legs more so that Ryan could fit between them, the shorter man’s hands gripping the front of his shirt for balance as he clambered over to share his seat. Their open mouths met, Shane letting out a low grunt as his head hit back off the window. His hands migrated from Ryan’s lower back to behind his thighs, sitting forwards as he helped the shorter man adjust their positions, climb over his legs, straddle his hips. Ryan kissed him slowly, deeply, one hand gripping Shane’s shirt collar, the other running up through his hair. He could feel Shane’s hands under his shirt, against his skin, exploring him, familiarizing himself with every inch of his body he could access. He sat back against the door again, Ryan moving with him, their bodies flush together. There was a weight to their movements, a heavy passion behind the slow kiss, their tongues sliding against each other.

Shane broke off, keeping his gaze lowered. “If you’re gonna send me back to where you think I belong…” He smiled to himself as he heard Ryan swallow, felt the shorter man’s nose pressing into his cheek as he kept their lips close. “…then leave me something to remember you by, hm?”

Ryan went to kiss him again, a frustrated groan escaping as Shane swiftly avoided the action. The taller man’s lips brushed down to burrow under Ryan’s jaw, feeling Ryan practically melt against him, hearing the low moans right in his ear. Ryan drew his bottom lip back into his mouth, biting down on it, eyes fluttering closed as he felt the warm kisses against his throat. Shane’s hand rested on the back of his neck, keeping Ryan in place as the shorter man tilted his head aside, allowing easier access.

“ _Fuck_.” Ryan pressed a hand against the cool window, his other hand tangled in Shane’s hair, mouth parted to let his heavy breaths in and out. “Fuck." _Why does it have to be so damn good?_

Shane’s fingers deftly undid the buttons on the other man’s shirt, stopping halfway down his stomach. He slipped his hands under the fabric, taking hold of the shorter man, just at the bottom of his ribs. He pressed teasingly slow, soft kisses against Ryan’s chest, hearing the shaky exhale as he did so. Ryan looked down with heavy lids, a hand pushing back through Shane’s hair as he watched the kisses being trailed across his skin. His fingers tightened in the man's thick hair, pulling his head back so he could kiss him again, taste him, feel him inside his mouth.

"God." Shane sat more upright so that he was taller again, his hands holding Ryan's face, thumbs brushing his stubbled cheeks. "God, why do you have to be so fucking hot."

It wasn't a question that required an answer. Ryan didn't exactly get the option to answer anyway, as he was pulled into the most fervently passionate kiss he'd ever experienced, his head spinning from the feeling of Shane's tongue brushing his, a drive behind the slick movements that made him want nothing more than to be back in the motel, where they could do what they wanted in private. He rested back against Shane's propped-up leg, allowing Shane to ravish him, allowing him to-

The light ring of his phone pierced the air. Still, they didn't properly stop until the third ring. Ryan took a brief moment to catch his breath before answering it, turning his head aside. 

"Steven?"

"Yeah, Mark and Jacoba split, man." He sounded like he was driving, a rumbling engine in the background. "So we're gonna tail Jacoba. Kelsey and TJ are still after the girls; it seems that they're heading home. You be okay with Shane for just one more night?"

Ryan swallowed, closing his eyes as he felt Shane's mouth working against his neck, a hand supporting his head, the other resting against his chest. "Yeah, I - fuck - I can. That's- _God_ , that's okay."

"You alright there?" It was Andrew now, the monotonous voice just edging on suspicious. 

"I'm good. I'm really fucking good." He spoke through gritted teeth, eyes squeezed shut. "See- See you later."

He hung up before they could return the goodbye, chucking his phone aside, mouth hanging open as he panted for air. He didn't say anything. Not yet. He didn't want Shane to stop, for any reason. So he just lay back, hands tangled in Shane's hair, eyes closed. And really, he should've wondered why Shane didn't ask what he'd been talking about on the phone.

* * *

“We’re being tailed.”

It was dark by now. No sign of Mark Tromp. They didn't know what car he was driving. They didn't know if he was even driving a car. He headed north, and that was all they could gather from whatever diners and hotels and little markets along the way. _Have you seen this man?_ No. No one had seen this man. Oh wait, maybe he had gone by about two hours ago. _Do you remember his car? Anything weird? Anything at all?_  Nah.

Shane swallowed, glancing in the rear view mirror. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Ryan squinted at the car in the mirror. “For a few miles now.”

Shane was back checking through the accounts. He seemed distracted. Constantly looking out the window, not that there was much to be seen driving around the back roads of Absolutely Fucking Nowhere. 

“Just pull over. Let them pass.”

Ryan was quiet for a minute. “Right, okay.”

The car behind mimicked them. Shane fidgeted, holding the accounts in his hand. _Come on. Just do it already._ Ryan seemed very on edge, which was understandable. He went to unbuckle his seat belt, pausing as Shane put a hand on his arm. Ryan frowned at him.

“Don’t,” said Shane with a small shake of his head. “No point in going in all guns blazing. Just keep driving for a bit.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. Might as well wait until we’re closer to civilization.” _Since this idiot isn’t doing what he’s meant to be doing_.

They drove on. The car behind got so close its headlights weren’t even visible anymore. Shane’s eyes flickered to the glove compartment, where he knew Ryan kept his gun, his handcuffs, his badge. This was the bit he’d been dreading. He’d been dreading it because of the risk at first, but now he was dreading it for a different reason. He wasn’t sure what, though. A few signs of civilization were cropping up; a patch of grass, a bench or two, a ramshackle building that was probably part of some farm or other.

“Okay, no, this is fucking creepy.” Ryan suddenly pulled over again, cutting the engine. The car behind them did the same. “Stay here.”

“Alright.”

Ryan kicked open the door, pausing at the clicking noise behind him. He refused to turn. He couldn’t bring himself to.

“Ryan.” Shane’s voice was quiet, like he was afraid he’d be heard. “Get out and get on your knees.”

Ryan didn’t respond for a moment. He turned his head to look at him over his shoulder, eyes wide. No solid emotion was evident, however. If he saw the gun, his gun, he didn’t acknowledge it. The car behind them cutting its engine was the only sound. Then silence.

“You little-”

“Ryan, just do it.”

He did it. Ryan knelt in the dusty sand on the side of the road, feeling the coarse warmth of it through his jeans. He linked his hands behind his head, hearing the crunching of approaching footsteps. It was Mark. It was Mark fucking Tromp. Ryan stared at him. Then he stared at the ground. It didn't matter where he stared. All he could see was red.

Mark Tromp took the accounts from Shane’s hands, flicking through them in silence. Shane didn’t talk. He stood with his hands on his hips, face turned away. Almost ashamed. Maybe he was ashamed.

“This all of them?” Mark sounded gruff, reluctant.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s all of them.”

“They know you helped us.”

“It’s fine. I have a plan.”

Ryan went to get to his feet, feeling the cold metal of the gun pressed against the back of his neck. “You son of a bitch, Shane Madej. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you if you go through with whatever the fuck you think you're doing right now.”

"Oh, don't be like that." The gun was taken back.

Then Shane’s hands were on his wrists, pulling them together behind his head, slipping the cuffs around them. Ryan was going to scream, or cry, or both. He felt like a total fucking fool. He gritted his teeth as he heard Shane crouch down behind him, felt him slip a hand around his hip, into his pocket to take out his phone. He wanted to turn around and strangle the guy to death with his bare hands, but he didn’t. He knew Shane wouldn’t hurt him. Not physically, anyway. It seemed like he was about to emotionally batter him with a steel pipe.

"Now don't go around taking this personally," said Shane softly, a softness that wasn't exactly comforting. "You thought our little game was over. You were wrong."

Ryan didn't respond. He was too downright furious, cuffed hands clenched into fists behind his head. 

"I told you I'd get out," whispered Shane into his ear, a hand on his other shoulder. "And you really made it worth my while. So thank you for such a wonderful night."

"Oh, you son of a _bitch_." The words scraped out through gritted teeth, Ryan's gaze distant but sharp. The anger was scorching hot, almost painful in his chest. "How. Just tell me how."

"Hm. Nope." Shane straightened up again, giving Ryan's hair a playful ruffle. Poking a caged animal with a stick. "God, I missed this. I actually did."

"Shane." Tromp sounded impatient, agitated. "Come on."

"The thrill of it." Shane gave a little shiver, a smile on his face. "I'm buzzed. I really am."

“Just shoot him.” It was Mark Tromp talking, his voice shifty. Anxious. “He’ll just be trouble.”

A pause. “No. No, he’ll be fine.”

“But isn’t that Ryan Bergara?”

Shane answered quickly. “No. No, that’s not him. He’s in the other car, with a blonde cop.”

“So this guy’s okay to just leave?”

“Yeah. He’s fine.” Shane’s jollity sounded ever so slightly forced. “Just a rookie cop getting a punch in the face from the real world.”

“Fuck you.” Ryan glared back over his shoulder at him, Shane swiftly avoiding his gaze. “Fuck you, you absolute bastard. You better start running, and you better run far. Because I’m gonna come after you with everything I have.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Shane took the keys from the car, slipping them into his pocket. “I'll see you in three years then, Detective Everything You Have.”

“Shane.” Ryan's voice was icy cold. Mark Tromp continued walking, but the owner of the name came to a halt, halfway across the road. “Shane, if you leave me here right now, I’ll kill you. The next time I see you, I will kill you.”

Shane didn’t reply for a long moment. “Yeah. We won’t be seeing each other again.”

Shane followed Mark into the darkened park across the road, his hands clenching into fists, then unclenching, then clenching again. He threw one look back over his shoulder, seeing Ryan was now on his feet. He was leaning on the bonnet of the car, elbows on the metal, cuffed hands linked behind his head. He straightened up, looking right at Shane. And for a split second, Shane felt awful. Really, really awful. For a few split seconds. Which turned to minutes. Which turned to the next few hours as he hitchhiked with the silent Mark Tromp. The few hours were spent in silence, Shane staring worriedly at nothing, biting on his thumb. Thinking. About Ryan. 

And really, why the hell did he feel so bad? They didn't like each other. They didn't. They just had insane sex a few times. They weren't _friends_. They were _enemies_. Rivals. Batman and the Joker. Oh, who the hell was he kidding? They were Batman and Catwoman, if anything. But he had to keep up the bravado, the confidence, at least until he got out of the country. He had twenty-four hours, at least. Or so he thought.

Because hell hath no rage like a Ryan scorned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO EXCITED for the next few chapters aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa


	9. Chain Of Fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Love the lie and lie to love  
> Hangin' on, with a push and shove  
> Possession is the motivation  
> That is hangin' up the whole damn nation  
> Looks like we always end up in a rut,  
> Tryin' to make it real, but compared to what?"
> 
> Roberta Flack, 1969, and major vibessss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maaaan i love writing villain shane it's great
> 
> also from here out the fic is gonna go 0-100 real quick

"I knew I'd see you again."

Shane didn't reply. His smile was enough. His smile that said 'I won, and I always will win'. He sat into the car, giving one glance back out the window at the dark road behind them, just in case. Not that Ryan could possibly be on his tail quite yet. _No, Shane. Don't underestimate him again_. That's how he'd got caught last time. Sara Rubin gave him a dry smile as they took off down the road, her curly hair whipping in the wind through the open window.

"Long time no see, Shane."

"A hell of a long time." He gave her a wink. "I see you're out too."

"Oh, they don't keep you too long for stealing cars and shit." She waved a hand vaguely. "And they let me out on good behavior."

"That's fair."

"You, on the other hand, were meant to be getting thirty years." She raised an eyebrow. "It's been about ten months?"

He shrugged, a blatantly smug look on his face. "Oh, just lucky."

She laughed. "Yeah, right. More like you went in there knowing full well you wouldn't be staying in there."

He laughed too, but there was still something niggling in his chest. An underlying sense of panic. He knew he should be listening to it. 

"News is that a certain detective is out for blood this time," she said after a comfortable quiet. "Ryan Bergara's stirring shit up, man."

"Of course he is." He sighed heavily, sharply. "Of course he is."

She glanced at him, looking him up and down. "I wonder what could have him so angry this time."

Shane rubbed a hand across his mouth, not replying for a moment. "I may have done something stupid."

"Yeah." She reached over, giving the mark on his neck a light tap. "What the hell is this?"

Shane pulled his shirt collar over to cover it, his face reddening. "...I didn't mean to."

She shook her head in clear disappointment. "Oh man. Please tell me you're kidding."

"It was only once!" he replied hurriedly, raising his hands as he half-turned to look at her. "Just once!"

"Just once?"

"One night," he corrected. "Just one night." _Not enough nights_.

"How many times?" she continued, a small scowl on her face. She didn't give him time to answer. "Really, Shane. I mean, I didn't even know you back when you and Bergara had your whole thing going on, but I still heard of all the shit you guys did to each other." She let out a heavy sigh. "Jesus, Shane. I can't believe you fucked a cop. And not just a plain cop. The goddamn detective who put you in jail!"

"God, it was _so good_ , Sara." Shane leaned back in his seat, hands over his face. "Jesus, he was- It was unreal. I'm pretty sure I blacked out a few times."

"Shane, you-"

"Have you ever came _so hard_ that you saw the way the world was going to end?"

"I know the way the world is going to end!" she said, baffled by the stupidity of the criminal genius sitting beside her. "And it's going to be because of you and Bergara!"

"Woo." He rolled down his window, fanning himself. "God. Give me a minute."

She rolled her eyes. "Wow. Wow, okay."

He blew air out through his mouth, trying to ignore the palpable memories in his head. "Right. Right, I need a payphone. And a hell of a lot of change."

"Hm?"

"I have some calls to make."

* * *

Ryan sat in the nearest police station to where he'd been essentially abandoned. He'd had to break into his own car, and hotwire it, and the entire time he'd been almost too angry to even think straight. And now he was sitting. Waiting. Very impatiently indeed. The station was abuzz, as expected.  _He’s gone_ , the cops whispered to each other.  _Shane Madej escaped. Ryan lost him. He’s gone._ Mark Tromp and... and the other one had vanished. The other one. Ryan couldn’t even think of his name without wanting to punch a hole through the wall. _Madej. Shane Madej_. Ryan rested his elbows on the table, fist pressed against his mouth as he glared at nothing. _Shane Madej, with your scheming and your conniving and your easy smile and your smooth words. I hate you_. 

Ryan remembered reading Shane's file, back before he'd agreed to take the case. He had debated refusing it, because really, at first, it sounded boring. A petty accountant who dealt with folks of dubious morals. But then he'd read the file. He'd read it back to front and front to back. And he'd quickly built up an image in his head that hadn't been too far off; Shane Madej was an intelligent, cunning, careful man with a talent for getting people to do what he wanted. He wasn't cruel, but he was ruthless. His enemies never lasted for long. They either ran away, or he ran them into the ground. And Ryan had never had the opportunity to face anyone like him before. He just hadn't expected to be facing him for such a long fucking time. And just when he'd thought it was over, Shane sparked it back up again.

 _Shane. If you were half as clever as you think you are, you would've let Mark Tromp shoot me_.

"Yo, Ryan!"

It was Steven and Andrew, finally. They hurried over to him, looking a tiny bit concerned. They were right to be. Ryan was sitting in silence at the table in this station's only empty incident room, a glazed look on his face. He blinked himself out of his vengeful daydreams, turning to look at them.

"Guys." Ryan looked from one to the other, still blank-faced. "I am so fucking angry right now. I just need to get that out there."

"How the hell did he get away?" asked Steven, eyes wide. "What happened?"

"He's in with the Tromps." Ryan's voice was stiff, fists still clenched on the table. "I don't know how. I don't know why. I don't know for how long. I thought we were following the Tromps, but maybe they were following us. Following him." _Shane_.

"How the hell are we-"

"Sorry, excuse me." An unfamiliar cop hurried across the room, handing a phone to Ryan with urgency. "It's Ma- It's for you."

Ryan stared at the woman. Then he stared at the phone for a long moment. He put it to his ear. He said the first thing that came to mind.

"Bastard."

"Hey, baby." 

Ryan gritted his teeth at the lazy purr of the words. He didn’t reply, letting Shane carry on.

“So sorry about earlier. Bit of a shitty move on my part.” The smile was audible. “But really, I think you were beginning to forget exactly who I am.”

“And I think you’re beginning to forget exactly who I am,” shot back Ryan, getting to his feet. “And I can’t wait to fucking remind you.”

“Exactly who you are?” Shane laughed. “Funny, isn’t it? We got to know each other _so well_ in some aspects, but-”

“Shane, listen to me.” He was glaring straight ahead, one hand pressed to the desk, the other holding the phone in a white-knuckled grip. It was as if no one else was in the room. “Believe it or not, but last time I went easy on you. I really did. This time, I’m gonna fucking take you down so fast that hopefully you’ll get whiplash so badly that you snap your neck and fucking die.”

A pause. “Not gonna lie, that turned me on a bit.”

Ryan exhaled sharply. “You’re the scum of the earth, Shane Madej.”

“Ooh, baby.” A leisurely inhale as he spoke. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“You’re dead. You’re a dead man walking.” He ignored the warning raise of the hand from Andrew. “I’m gonna punch your teeth through the back of your goddamn skull.”

“Aw. You’re so angry.” A low chuckle. “It’s cute. Really, it is.”

A silence. Ryan had his eyes closed, head lowered, phone against his ear. The phone felt hot in his hand, scorching.

“Listen, Ryan.” The name was drawn out, casual. “You don’t want to get involved in this war, pal.”

 _Involved?_ “No?”

“No. It really won't be worth it. I'd advise that you just leave me to execute my flawless plan, and then we can never see each other again.”

“And I’m going to ignore that advice.” He heard the dry laugh from the other end. He could almost picture the half-smirk on the man’s face. “You seem to think I’m some rookie idiot, but I’m damn good at my job, Shane. So I hope you’re ready.”

“Oh, I know all about you, Ryan. How could I not?” A pause, broken only by a pensive hum. “Yeah, you’re a formidable force, I’ll admit. Given me some tough times. But I love it. I do.”

"Keep talking. C'mon." Ryan gritted his teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn't shatter. "Because I'm going to throw it all back in your stupid face when you're behind bars. And this time for good."

A relaxed laugh. "You know, the last time you called my face stupid, I believe you had your tongue down my throat ten seconds later."

Ryan didn't reply. He couldn't. His jaw just wouldn't unclench.

"Mm. It was a nice memory for you to leave me with, Ryan. Very kind of you." A low sigh, like he was leaning back in a chair. "Especially because I won't get the opportunity to see your pretty face anymore. I have a lovely place in the Bahamas that I'm just _dying_ to see again."

"Oh. Is that so."

"Almost as much as I'm dying to see you. But alas, our lovely affair has to end just as quickly as it started."

"It's not over."

"Oh, really?"

"Maybe the sex part is," said Ryan quickly, hearing the disappointed 'tut' from the other end. Steven and Andrew shared a look of surprise at the words. "But we're going to see each other again. I promise."

"No point if we're not going to have sex, Ryan." A snort. "Why else would I want to see you?"

Ryan sat back down, a small smile on his face. "Alright. Come down to your nearest police station, and I'll give you the time of your life."

A dry laugh. "Oh, you got me. I'll be right there."

"Or if you want," continued Ryan, resting an arm on the table as he leaned forwards. "You could give me your location, and I'll come to you. I'd say it's a lot comfier to fuck in than a cell."

"Oh, I'd go wherever you want me to, baby."

"I know you would."

Shane was quiet for a long moment. "God, why do you have to be a fucking cop? You could've been the Bonnie to my Clyde, Bergara."

"And gotten peppered by police in the end? Ooh, tempting. Just let me grab my coat."

"Stop making me laugh," said Shane wryly, his eye roll evident even just through the phone. "I'll fall in love."

"Ah, we can't have that."

"No. That'd just be tragic." 

“Yeah. It would.” He smiled to himself. "Especially because I know you, Shane. I know _you_.”

A silence. “I know you too.”

“Perfect. So we’re on equal footing.”

“Not for long.”

“Yeah. Not for long.”

“Stop trying to get the last word.”

“Then hang up.”

“No _you_ hang up,” replied Shane in a high-pitched gush, like a high school girl in a badly-written rom-com.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck you.”

“Ugh, Ryan.” His voice took on a blatantly provocative edge that made Ryan's shoulders freeze, his mouth suddenly dry. “God, you know how to get me going.”

“I swear, the next time I see you I’m going to punch you right in your stupid mouth.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” His panted breaths were alarmingly convincing, Ryan’s mouth falling open slightly. “Oh, tell me what you’re going to do to me.”

Ryan swallowed. “This is ridiculous. I’m hanging up.”

A long pause, which consisted of silence from Shane, and Ryan waiting for the response.

“Then hang up, Ryan.”

He immediately did, realizing he’d looked like a bit of an idiot. Threatening to hang up and then not doing it. He slammed the phone down onto the table, standing with his hands on his hips, scowling at it. As if the man he’d been talking to could even see. No one in the room spoke for a long moment.

"He's calling people." Ryan quickly put together his scattered thoughts, pacing over to the whiteboard that sat at the head of the room. "He's calling his old friends. He's made it to a pay phone, which means he has some sort of transport." He half-turned to look at Steven and Andrew. "Where did that call just come from?"

Steven hurried out. Then he hurried back in. "Wangaratta."

"Call the main station there. Tell them there's a criminal at large and to keep an eye out. Give them Shane's description." He began writing names on the board, the marker squeaking as he did so. "Horsley. McClintock. Norris. I want them all brought in to the nearest station to wherever they are."

Madej's team. No, not exactly his 'team', but his group of cronies. Shane had always had a group of cronies. A little gang that supported each other through tough times, making sure they remained top of their respective food chains. There was Horsley, a lawyer who couldn’t care less about who she defended, and more about how much they could pay her. McClintock, an art dealer who got his art from dubious sellers, and sold them to even more dubious buyers. Norris, a politician who spent her days laughing and smiling for the camera, and her nights asking favors from and returning favors to people like the ones listed beforehand. Shane would cook the books for all of them, getting in return an unbeatable lawyer, a steady client who dealt in millions, and a way to never lose power and influence over others who might try and take his position. It had been a sweet deal. They were untouchable. Until Ryan. He'd taken down the strongest pillar, and the others had struggled to stay upright. No one there to cover up their shady deals? No one to flip their profits? No one to evade their taxes for them? Yes, they'd missed Shane. Too much for Ryan's liking.

“And bring Goldsworth to me."

Andrew blinked. "The mob guy?"

"Yeah. The mob guy." _Shane's ex-lover, more specifically_. "Tell him it's not a questioning. I just want to talk to him. About Shane."

Oh yes, they were going to talk. And he was going to make him an offer he most definitely would not refuse.

* * *

“Did he sound mad?”

Shane didn’t reply for a moment, standing with his back to them, hands in his pockets. “Livid.”

“Good.” Norris checked her watch, keeping track of her schedule. “Good. He’ll slip up.”

“Bergara has no logic to him,” agreed Horsley, sipping at her coffee. Her wire-framed glasses shone in her silver hair. "He's focused, but he has no logical way of thinking."

"Which is exactly why he’s dangerous.” Shane’s voice was low, pensive, as he gazed out the floor-to-ceiling window in Horsley's hideout. “He’s smart, and he’s imaginative. Imagination is a lot more dangerous than people give it credit for.”

Horsley was quiet for a long moment. “You think he’s a threat?”

“He’s my only threat.”  _He’s always been my only threat_. “But he can’t put a hand on me once I’m out of the country.”

“As long as you don’t go to America,” said Horsley, looking at him with grey eyes. “He’s like you in that regard. American passport, American citizen. He’ll be able to follow you. He’ll be able to aid in finding you.”

“Would he really go to all that effort?” asked Sara, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes,” they all answered in unison, voices ranging from flat to excited.

“God, I missed this." Shane turned to face them with a nonchalant swing of his leg, hands still in his pockets. "The chase. I live for it."

Norris rolled her eyes, her hand slipping into her pocket to retrieve her ringing phone. "You're honestly- Oh. Unknown number."

"Probably cops," said Horsley coolly. "Your location off?"

"Yeah."

"Then answer."

Norris did so, her voice level, relaxed. "Francesca Norris speaking." A roll of her eyes, a small nod. "Oh yes, of course. Not a problem. I'll be right in. Just give me a few hours, I'm quite busy." A fake laugh, the falseness of which was only evident due to the lack of amusement on her face. A true politician. "Yes, I'd be delighted to help. No, I haven't seen him myself. Is he out? Oh, how terrible. How did he manage such a thing?" She got to her feet, crossing to the other side of the room as she continued speaking.

Horsley's own phone started ringing, buzzing quietly on her desk. She leaned forwards, looking down her nose at it. Then her eyes flickered up to meet Shane's.

"Ryan's half a step behind you, Madej."

Shane closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Just run with it." 

He moved into the next room, a large dining room, leaving them to blab to the cops about how soon they'd be in, how they both needed a few hours just because of their schedules. Bullshit. They needed a few hours to scatter so that they didn't arrive to the same police station. But McClintock hadn't arrived at all, which meant he was out of the picture. Ryan could spin whatever tale he wanted to McClintock, and Shane hadn't even had the chance to defend himself. 

He sat in the chair at the top of the long table, kicking his feet up on it, leaning back, hands resting over his stomach. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, taking a long, deep breath. Thinking. He had priorities here, both of which were potentially life-threatening. And one of which he had to fulfill, if the Tromps were going to pay him for his work. And it was gonna be big bucks. He needed Francesca, and he needed Horsley. They knew what was going on, they'd been there for the whole thing. And so had Ryan, but he had been entirely oblivious to it. Sometimes it's better to keep the cops out of the loop. Because Shane knew the only way to stop a bad guy with a gun was to be... another bad guy with a gun. 

 _Ryan_.

He distractedly bit on his lip, letting out the deep breath nice and slow.

 _Oh, Ryan. I want you here, but I'd also do anything to see you dead._  

Ryan was burning his lines of power, trying to cut them off before Shane could get a firm hold of them again. And Shane would've done the exact same thing himself, if their situations were flipped. _But what are you going to do next, Ryan?_ _Surprise me._

* * *

Ryan wasn’t half as interested in Horsley, or McClintock, or Norris, as he was in Goldsworth. The man who had been Shane’s paramour for whatever amount of months. And now that Ryan was seeing him in person, he finally recognized him from that first meeting with Shane; the ‘receptionist’. Ryan closed the door to the interrogation room behind him. Everyday seemed to reveal some other way in which Shane had been playing him; making out with a mob boss in front of two cops, and then just saying it was his receptionist. A classic Shane move. It was infuriating.

The man was handsome, no doubt. Dark curly hair, almost as dark as the man's deeds. He was a villain, through and through. One who planned things almost as carefully as Shane himself did. Bright blue eyes. A general cockiness to him. A perfect match.

Ryan took a deep breath, sitting down across from him. “Thanks for coming in.”

The man was looking at him with a knowing smile on his face. “I heard Madej escaped.”

Ryan folded his arms on the table. “Mm.”

“You should’ve killed him while you had the chance,” shrugged Goldsworth, sitting back in his chair. “An accidental shot fired, and you could’ve avoided everything.” A slight smile. “Or maybe you couldn’t have.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, unsure of exactly how to maneuver this conversation in a way that would prevent their respective jobs getting in the way. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that Shane wanted you, and he got you." A shrug. "Shane always gets what he wants."

A pause. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I remember you, detective.” The smile was bitter now, eyes narrowed slightly. “Yeah, I remember you. Coming in that day, looking all pretty. And you saw right through him." Goldsworth nodded slowly. "Yeah, the second you said 'whenever you're ready', he wanted you. He screwed me over for you.”

Ryan frowned, genuinely puzzled. “He what?”

“Oh, he didn’t notice.” Goldsworth rolled his eyes, almost patronizing. “No, neither of you did. But I know what Shane’s like when he wants something. And he wanted you. Bad.”

Ryan didn’t respond, jaw set.

“He loved it when you’d almost catch him. And you loved it too.”

Ryan still didn’t respond. It was either agree, or lie.

“And you were both so incredibly stupid. The whole time.” He used his hands like puppets, talking back and forth. “I hate you! No I hate  _you_! I hate you so much that I’m going to spend the next three years of my life obsessed with you! Well I hate you so much that I’m going to leave my boyfriend for you!”

“You weren’t his boyfriend,” interrupted Ryan coolly.

Goldsworth stopped, letting his arms fall back to the table. “Yeah. Yeah, I wasn’t. I was his goddamn mistress. I was a fucking fool. And so are you.”

“You’re bitter.”

“And you’re not?”

“I have nothing to be bitter about,” said Ryan in what he hoped was a firm voice. “And I’m not a fool.”

“He wanted you, and he got you.”

“He didn’t get me,” replied Ryan icily.

“Oh yes he did. I know the face of someone who Shane’s fucked over, and you have it.”

“He didn’t fuck me over.”

“You’re just another link in his chain of gullible idiots, detective.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. “Well every chain has a weak link. And maybe  _I’m_  that weak link. Maybe  _I’m_  the one who’s gonna break the entire chain, and use it to fucking strangle him.”

Goldsworth grinned at this. “Oh, yes. You’re just his type, aren’t you. Feisty little bastard. He likes that. He likes a challenge.”

“Do you know where he could have gone.”

The man frowned at this focus, this lack of reaction to what he’d just said. Then the realization dawned on his face. “You want him too.”

Ryan took a deep breath, not taking his eyes off the other man. “No. I just want him back in prison.”

“No. No, you just want him. Full stop.”

“I don’t. So shut up.”

“What did he do, huh? The usual? Give you a night you’ll never forget and then piss off?”

Ryan sighed sharply, teeth gritted. “Not quite.”

"Chat away the next morning as if nothing had even happened?"

 _No_. Ryan blinked, staying quiet. _No, he was completely silent the next morning_.

"Lead you on a bit?" continued Goldsworth, resting his chin on his hand. "Was he 'too tired' the next morning to let you touch him?"

Ryan inhaled deeply, thinking about the car, about how Shane had been all over him, and him all over Shane. _Don't start feeling special, Ryan. It doesn't mean anything_.

“I know the face of someone who’s been given the treatment by Shane.” The man pointed lazily at him. “And you got it. Bad. I can see it in your eyes. The self-loathing.”

“I’m gonna correct you there and say it’s not self-loathing. It’s just loathing.” Ryan shrugged. “Aimed towards Shane. I don’t feel anything towards you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Oh. I thought since you’re clearly bitter, and perhaps a bit jealous of me...”

“I’m not.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to be.” Ryan sat forwards, secretive. “I want you to help me. I want us to help each other."

Goldsworth was listening now, his blue eyes bright. “How?”

“I’ve known Shane for a long time, but only as an enemy.” Ryan tapped the table lightly. “You’ve known him as an ally. And an accomplice, I’m guessing.”

“No comment.”

“Shocker.” Ryan waved a hand vaguely. “And I don’t need a comment. I need your help. Your advice.” He kept his voice low. “Where would Shane go if he was hiding out?”

Goldsworth didn’t respond for a moment. “What do I get if I tell you?”

“Immunity.” Ryan didn’t hesitate. “You’ll get immunity. And you’ll get revenge. Is that enough?”

“More than enough.”

“And I want you to do something else for me.” He leaned forwards, keeping his eyes lowered as he spoke quietly. “I want you to tell all your pals that Shane Madej banged a detective. I want you to mention me by name. I want everyone to know that me and him slept together." The words tasted bitter. He swallowed the taste. "And that he did so because he’s a rat, and he’s always been a rat.” He lifted his eyes, seeing the smile of approval on the other man’s face. “Would that make people angry?”

“Oh, yes."

“Angry enough to decide not to help him if he asked?"

"If phrased right."

Ryan smiled. "I think I can trust you to phrase it exactly right."

Goldsworth got to his feet, extending his hand. Ryan stood up to shake it, returning the devious smile.

"I'll stay in touch," said Goldsworth, turning away. "Keep your phone nearby."

* * *

Ryan did keep his phone nearby. He was sitting in Steven's car, alone, waiting for his two coworkers to come out so they could head to Wangaratta, as quickly as possible. The dawn was just breaking, over the trees in the park beside him, over the buildings in the distance. A low, hazy sun. His phone rang. He answered the unknown number, thinking it to be the criminal he had just struck a bargain with. It was, however, a different criminal.

"Goldsworth?"

"I-" An almost stunned pause at the previous name. "Mother _fucker_."

"Shit!" Ryan sat bolt upright at the sound of Shane's voice, already feeling a cold sweat breaking out. "Fuck, no, I-"

Shane was already gone, the line dead. Ryan kicked open the car door, jumping to his feet, slamming a hand on the roof as he yelled for his coworkers to hurry up, hurry the fuck up, there's a change of plan! Because really, what use is immunity if you're not even alive?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i could have fuckin trailer music for the next chapter it'd be this bad boy  
> https://youtu.be/YifPuv0vu0E?t=50


	10. Be Your Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You're such a violent high  
> And I'm such a loose cannon, can't you see?"
> 
> Be Your Shadow by The Wombats is a song I literally just stumbled across and like if this fic could have a theme song?? this song

Ryan's footsteps rang off the tiles as he crossed the expansive hall, his coat flapping around him in his haste. Maybe he shouldn't have worn his cop coat to a mobster's home, but he had been in a bit of a rush. To make sure a mob leader was safe. Ryan paused in his walking, closing his eyes. What the hell was he doing? Teaming up with a literal criminal? He wasn't too sure what Goldsworth had done, or what he actually did in general. He could only guess that it was a teeny bit worse than money laundering.

"He's not here, Ryan." Steven stood at the dark banister at the top of the stairs, hands gripping it. "He's gone. Television's still on."

"Fuck." Ryan turned in a circle, hands on his hips. "Fuck. How could Shane have gotten him before us?"

"Well that just means that it wasn't Shane himself." Helen joined Steven at the banister; she was dressed casually, comfy, since she'd rushed to get to the place to help them. "I mean, Shane's in Wangaratta, right?"

"So he's back in control. Of some sources, anyway." Ryan gritted his teeth. "God, fuck it. Any results from Horsley or Norris?"

"They barely remember him, apparently."

"How the hell does he do that?" Ryan scratched his stubble, half because it was itching, and half because it was something to stop his hand from clenching into a fist. "How does he inspire so much loyalty in people? It drives me insane."

"You sure he hasn't inspired any in you?" asked Andrew dryly, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen that belonged in a five-star restaurant. "Or did I hear your conversation with him wrong?"

Ryan went quiet, his face reddening. "No. No, he hasn't inspired anything in me. Apart from anger."

"Did you really sleep with him?" asked Steven, folding his arms on the banister. "That's crazy, man. A classic enemies to lovers. And back to enemies." He frowned. "Maybe not so classic."

"The super is gonna have your head on a plate for that, Ryan," said Helen, almost scolding. "Sleeping with him and then letting him escape? She's gonna be mad."

"Not if I get my hands on Madej again." Ryan took out his phone, hoping desperately for a missed call, or a text from Goldsworth. "We'll just wait for a bit. Maybe he's just out. Or maybe one of Shane's henchmen will pop back around to clear the place up and we can spring him."

Before the others could even give their thoughts, the phone started ringing. Not Ryan's phone. The house phone. It rang shrill and loud, and long. Ryan decided to stop ignoring it, picking it up and putting it to his ear.

"Sorry, he's not in right now," said Ryan lightly, his other hand on his hip. 

"I know."

Ryan's head snapped up, mouth falling open. "Son of a bitch."

"So you want everyone to know about our love life, do you?" Shane hummed his disapproval. "Don't like that one bit, Bergara."

"Mm. Hope it doesn't cause any problems."

Shane gave a dry laugh. "Well, Ryan. I didn't know you were so proud of me."

"Oh, _so_ proud." Ryan sighed wistfully, pointing at the phone as he turned to give his coworkers an alarmed look. "You are mine, and I am yours, and now the whole country knows."

"Might be a bit damaging to your career, don't you think?"

"I'll redeem myself yet."

"Yeah. About that." Shane was quiet for a minute. “I’d really like to talk. Face to face.”

“No.”

"Yes."

"No!"

"C'mon, baby," he said, the mock-sadness dripping off the words. "Give me a chance to explain myself."

"I'm not giving you the chance to squirm your way out of this one, Madej. The next time we see each other face to face it'll be when I'm cuffing you and chucking you into a cop car." He moved his hand as if tossing a basketball, Steven pretending to catch it. "Kobe!"

Shane laughed. "Ah, so you're not intent on murdering me anymore?"

"I managed being with you for four days straight. My self-control is up the wazoo."

"I can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult." Shane shrugged. "Not that it matters. We're going to talk."

"We're really not."

“Look." Shane's voice dropped, openly threatening. "You can either talk to me voluntarily or involuntarily. But you're going to talk to me.”

“I’m not fucking talking to you in person. I-”

“Yada yada yada.” Shane waved a hand vaguely. “Listen, I’ll see you soon. I have some business to take care of first.”

"Business?" Ryan straightened up, his smile slipping. "What business?" It clicked. "Where's Goldsworth?"

"He's running, Ryan." A small laugh. "See, that's why he never really did it for me. Too... cautious."

"He's scared."

"He's smart. Unlike you." An almost palpable eye roll. "I mean, really? Blurting out your contact the second you answer the phone?"

"Don't follow him," said Ryan fiercely. "Don't try and find him."

“Uh, no, Ryan. No, I'm gonna do exactly that.” Shane sounded distracted, the sound of a door opening and closing in the background. “You seem to think I got to where I was without getting my hands a little dirty. Well I’ll tell you now; I got my hands  _very_  dirty, Ryan.”

“You lay a fucking finger on him and I’ll-”

“Save it, little guy.” Shane’s voice quietened for a second as he swapped ears, the muffled sounds of other voices in the background. “You really have no idea, do you? I'm ridding you of a very black mark on this world." A laugh. "Hey! I'm doing your job! Better than you!”

“Shane stop fucking around.” Ryan gestured for his coworkers to get out to the cars, and quick. “Stop acting like the big bad guy, alright? Don’t touch him.”

“I think I'll do whatever I want, Ryan.” The words were a lazy drawl. “I told you before, I hold grudges. Very much so. And he's pissed me off.” He paused. “Hey, let's make this a bit fun!”

“What?” Ryan glared at the wall. “What do you mean?”

“You find Goldsworth on time, and he lives!” His voice was light, airy. “You don’t, and he dies slowly in some warehouse in the back-end of nowhere.”

“I-”

“Actually no. Not slowly. That’s a bit too cruel.” Shane was basically talking to himself now, voicing his thoughts out loud. “I’m not a bad guy, Ryan. I’m not. We’re just on opposite sides of a never-ending war. Star-crossed lovers, if you will.”

“Shut up.”

“So I’ll just do what I intended to do, and send you a message.” The sounds in the background were echoed, like in a cavern. “And that is that no one is immune if I don’t want them to be.”

Ryan went quiet, teeth gritted. “You're not all-powerful, Shane.”

"Maybe not. Not as much as I used to be." Shane took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "But it's only a matter of time."

Ryan glowered out the window. "But you're leaving the country."

"I changed my mind."

He froze. "What?"

"I don't like the idea of running away from you," he explained lightly. "Of giving in. Nah, I'd rather stay right under your nose for the rest of your life. Wouldn't that just be _so_ annoying?"

"...Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck you."

"Ooh, not a happy bunny." Shane sounded as if he was now walking, footsteps ringing out in whatever warehouse he was probably in. "I have to hold up my end of a bargain here, Ryan. Don't get in my way."

Ryan hung up. Well, almost. If flinging a phone across a room so hard it dents the plaster in the opposite wall counts as hanging up. He linked his hands behind his head, turning in a quick circle, eyes wide.

"Goddamn son of a bitch." Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, bringing his elbows around to meet in front of his head as he leaned back. "Son of a _bitch_! Fuck!"

His coworkers hung around the two cars, waiting expectantly. 

"Goldsworth?"

"Gone." Ryan was breathing heavily, a hand now on his chest, as if to physically calm his heart. "We have to find him before Shane does."

"Well, why? If they kill him, it's not exactly a loss to society," said Andrew dryly. 

"I gave him immunity in return for his help!"

"Shane's not fucking around, huh?" Steven stood at the open driver's door, eyes wide. "And I thought _you_ were acting crazy."

Ryan took a moment, leaning on the bonnet, hands pressed to the hot metal. He inhaled deeply, straightening up, eyes still closed. No one said anything. 

"He wants to see me in person."

"Uh, no." Helen shook her head firmly. "Ryan, the guy is intending to murder someone. You show him your face now, what's to say he won't put a bullet through it?"

"The fact that he already could've done that." Ryan turned to face them, hands on his hips. "Mark Tromp wanted to shoot me because of who I am. Shane lied. He said I wasn't Ryan Bergara, and that I wouldn't be a threat. And to leave me."

A silence.

"Holy shit, Ryan." Steven blinked. "Does he fucking _like_  you?"

"Yeah, that is not a good sign, dude." Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Are there emotions involved here?"

"No! No. No, I don't think so." Ryan paused, biting on his lip. "Not on my part, anyway."

Helen stepped forwards, looking at him intently. "Ryan, is there a chance that Shane has feelings for you. Even the tiniest bit."

"I- I don't know." He shrugged awkwardly, suddenly feeling a bit too warm with his coat on. "Goldsworth just said some stuff that implied... that implied that Shane may be treating me a little bit differently than he did with his previous... partners."

"Like what?"

"He- Apparently Shane usually acts as if they hadn't had sex, or that it wasn't that good, and he doesn't like them to touch him the next day, but..." Ryan closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "He didn't want to talk about the sex at all. And when we did talk about it, we... we ended up, well, fucking. Again. In my car."

"Are you fucking serious?!" Steven shared a horrified look with Andrew, coming back around to join them on their side. "We were gonna take your car here, man! Were you just not gonna tell us?"

"You hooked up the day after?" Andrew looked as if he'd just seen a nuclear bomb explode in the distance. "Okay. Okay, answer this: would you have sex with him again?"

Ryan didn't reply for a long moment, eyes wide. When he did, it was a squeak of an answer. "Yes."

"No!" Steven fell dramatically back against Andrew, draping a hand across his eyes. "Oh no! He's got you in his sexy spiderweb, Ryan!"

"Oh God." Ryan buried his face in his hands. "Oh God. You're right."

"Was he good?" asked Andrew in all earnest, holding Steven up. 

Ryan looked at them from between his fingers, a character in an old-timey horror movie. "I- He- Yes! Yes, it was insane! It's not fair!" He gestured freely with his hands, panicked by his own words. "It was so fucking _passionate_ and hot and- and  _steamy_ and I hate how good he was!"

"What did-"

"He had an arm around my neck and he was, like, biting his hand at the beginning to try and stay quiet, right?" began Ryan, stepping forwards. "Which was honestly hot enough in itself. But then he started biting my neck instead but he was still like _moaning_ and honestly I just- I don't think I'll ever get over it." He pressed his hands over his eyes, tilting his head back. "Fuck. I need him back in prison so that I can't have sex with him again."

"Oh my _God!_ Ryan!"

"I think it's safe." Helen remained unfazed, focused, despite the enraptured Andrew and Steven beside her. "I think that just means you, well, gave him a good night. A _really_ good night. And I think we could use that."

Ryan let his hands drop off his eyes to look at her, face still flushed. "Huh?"

"Draw him in, Ryan!" She looked at him expectantly. "Be sexy. Be smart. Lure him out of his hiding spot."

"But he's so much worse than he used to be!" said Ryan, eyes wide, sincere. "Before all this, he was still posing as an accountant! He had offices, a schedule, meetings, I could keep track of him. But now he's a loose fucking cannon. He's all over the place."

"Then make him stay still," she replied, sitting into the car, Ryan taking the passenger seat. "Keep him in one place for a while, long enough so we can track his phone."

"Huh?"

"He seems to love ringing you."

"He's probably just using a burner phone though." A scowl out the window. "He's not stupid. Unfortunately."

"They can still be tracked. You'll just have to keep him on the phone for long enough." She started the engine. "Look, I've been your partner the entire time Shane's been on the scene. I know him too. Just not as well as you." She raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Shane plays with active defense. Always has. He never directly attacks you, but he'll make your attempted attack a pain in the ass to carry out. You see?"

He nodded, staring straight ahead. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

"So you can do one of two things," she continued with a simple shrug. "Provoke him into attacking you, which would probably be nearly impossible. He's a pretty chill guy. Or, you can open up a channel for attack. Take him down before he can put a barrier between him and us."

Ryan smiled, throwing her an approving look. "Helen, I am so glad you're here."

She smiled back, pulling away from the house. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

 "Why didn't you tell the kids?"

"They never would've talked to us again! Me and Jacoba agreed it was for the best." Mark Tromp paused, the phone giving a little crackle. "I just didn't know they'd go straight home. They don't know they're in danger."

"Look, I'm keeping Goldsworth off them," said Shane calmly, sitting back in his chair, one leg kicked up on the table in front of him. "He's too busy running to go and check your house. The cops would still be there, anyway."

"And you're sure all the accounts are gone?"

"Yup. All the important ones." 

Mark sounded relieved for the first time in weeks. "Thanks, Shane. I owe you."

"Yeah, you kinda do." Shane watched the pen slowly spinning in his hand as he spoke. "How would you feel if I brought the cops into the fold?"

The relief was promptly stolen. "What?!"

"Look, relax." Shane sat forwards, resting an arm on the table. "Goldsworth struck a deal with one of them. And let's just say, I wasn't aware that this certain cop was so willing to, uh, barter with his morals."

"If Goldsworth struck a deal with them, then they're the enemy!"

"I think I could make him- _them_ see reason."

A silence. "Is this the cop you slept with?"

Shane paused, eyes closed. "Uh, yeah. Yeah."

"So that's true?"

Shane cleared his throat, nodding. "Yes. Yeah, I slept with him. But it's nothing major, it was just sex. I'm not double-crossing anyone, and I want that to be clear."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it." Mark sounded doubtful. "But there's others who won't, Shane." He hung up.

Shane chucked the phone onto the desk, leaning back in his chair. "God damnit, Ryan."

He got to his feet, hands on his hips as he studied the wide, open space in front of him. Goldsworth would hopefully be here soon, and Shane was planning on putting a bullet right through the guy's face. Huh. Classic Goldsworth. Thinking he could play the big scary mobster. Well, Shane would just have to show him that that's not a part to play if you don't want to risk your life. 

Shane picked the phone up, chucking it from hand to hand as he wandered further into the warehouse, his footsteps echoing. He'd have to ring Ryan. Again. Just to find out how close he was to Goldsworth. He was planning on snatching them both at the same time, two birds one stone. He was soon to be surprised.

"What?" Ryan's voice was flat, unimpressed. 

"Oh hey, Ryan!" he smiled. "How are you?"

"Go away."

"Aw, can't find a certain criminal or two, can you not?" 

A sharp laugh through gritted teeth. "God, every time I hear your voice, I just want to headbutt a brick wall."

"Oh, please do. I'll hold."

A muttered curse. "You know what? I'm hanging up."

"Hey, hey, wait a second." Shane distractedly twirled the set of keys Horsley had lent him around a long finger as he spoke. "Don't be so rash, man."

"Why the hell do you keep calling me?"

"I miss you, baby," he grinned, hearing the irritated 'tut' in response. "I miss your... uh... I miss your body. That's about it, actually."

"As flattered as I am, I'm gonna have to point out that a phone call won't help you in that aspect." Ryan sounded relatively relaxed, moreso than their earlier conversation. "Unfortunately."

Shane raised an eyebrow at this. "Unfortunately?"

"Mm. It's late, Shane." A leisurely exhale. "And it's times like this when I really hate the fact you're a criminal. Kind of kills my buzz."

"Funny, it actually kind of creates my buzz." Shane smiled at the low chuckle. "The danger of it all. Really does it for me."

"What's with you and danger, hm?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

A pause. "I'm out to prevent it. You're out to cause it."

"Not as much as you'd expect."

"Ah. Intriguing."

Shane frowned. "Sounds pretty quiet on your end, Bergara. Not out on the hunt with your pals?"

"Oh, no. Your escape has landed a hell of a lot of paperwork on my desk."

"You know, I was always fantastic at paperwork." Shane came to a halt in the center of the echoing warehouse. "I'd love to help you. Paperwork is a bit of a turn on for me."

"And getting people to do my paperwork is a turn on for me." A laugh. "You know, this whole phone thing makes this exciting. It really does. Not knowing where you are is a great new edge."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah." His smile was audible. "I thought our relationship needed a bit of spicing up."

"Wasn't spicy enough for you, no?" He turned in a slow circle, examining the dark warehouse around him. "I thought it was fiery enough."

"Mm. I have a few suggestions on how to make it just that bit hotter."

“Are we going to have phone sex with half a police force listening in?” asked Shane, pausing in his twirling of his keys, catching them in his hand. “Because I’m totally into that. I’ll get us started.” He went on before Ryan could interrupt, smiling to himself. “You know, I almost enjoyed the car sex more than the motel. I mean, you're _flexible_ , Ryan. I never knew!"

“Right.”

“And when your coworkers called at the beginning?" He whistled through his teeth. "Now _that_ got me going."

“Mmhmm.”

“And I just adored that little whimper you’d do whenever you were about to come,” grinned Shane, beginning to actually feel a bit fired up himself.  _Not now, Madej. Focus_. “God, I wanted to spend the rest of the damn day learning every sound you could make.”

“Ah. Really.” A small sigh. “Well, you didn’t leave half as much of a mark on me as I left on you. Yeah, I left a few marks, didn’t I?”

“You can mark me everywhere, baby. I’m all yours.”

“I don’t think I want you to be all mine.”

“No?”

“No. I only want certain parts of you to be mine.”

“Now you’re getting into it, Bergara.” Shane stretched leisurely, an arm out to one side. “C’mon. When you’re done, I’ll rate you out of ten.”

“At least I finally found a way to shut you up,” said Ryan lightly. “And that’s to fuck you until you can’t speak.”

“Mm.” Shane inhaled deeply through his nose, giving his shoulders a little shake. “Yeah. That was good.”

“But it’s sad, really,” said Ryan in mock-sadness. “Because we’ll never be able to do anything ever again. Even though I want you to fuck me. Hard.” A pause as he leaned forwards, taking a quiet breath. “I want you to drag me into an empty room, slam me against the wall, make out with me, then fuck me like it’s our last day on earth.”

A silence. “Ryan. Jesus Christ, _Ryan_. You drive me fucking insane.”

“I want you to touch me-”

“Ryan.”

“-and I want you to hold me down-”

“God,  _Ryan_.” Shane closed his eyes, biting down on his knuckles in an attempt to stay grounded. “Fuck.”

“-and I want you to know that we’re entirely alone on this line.”

Shane paused, opening his eyes. “Huh?”

“Well, a force that isn’t here can’t be listening in.”

Shane blinked. “Wh- Where’s the force?”

“I’d say they’ll be arriving outside Horsley's warehouse in five minutes, at most.” Ryan’s smile was audible. “But nice to hear you like that again.”

“God damnit, Ryan!” he snapped, throwing the burner phone to the ground and quickly crushing it. “Fuck, I’m too horny for this!”

He hurried up the steps, to the metal grating that ran around the walls of the warehouse. He paused at the nearest window, squinting down the road. Yeah, there were actually lights. Headlights in the distance. Shane sighed heavily, hands on his hips as he watched the cars get closer. 

"Well, fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shane irl: baby boy. baby  
> me writing Shane: evil
> 
> sorry for such a late update!! on vacation right now so the next chapter might not be up until I get home :)


	11. A Proposal

Horsley had never been one to skip on lavish furnishings, even in her hideouts. Her dining room was more of a dining hall. It was a long room with a high-ceiling and a giant window at the far end looking out onto the road leading up to the house (a smart decision). It currently held a dark wood table that reached from one end of the room to the other, with matching chairs. It held an antique record player, and a few wooden sets of drawers that matched the table and chairs. It also held Shane Madej.

It wasn’t the worst makeshift cell. Shane had seen worse. He currently stood at the head of the table, hands in his pockets, gazing out the giant window. Watching the cops come and go. This marked another ally compromised by Ryan. Shane had seen him come up the driveway, with his little crew; the smart one, Helen, at his side. Yet it had been an hour or so, and Ryan still hadn’t come in to him. It was oddly… hurtful. Shane folded his arms across his chest, keeping watch. Showing his displeasure at the situation in general.

Shane didn’t turn around at the sound of the door opening. He didn’t turn around at the sound of it closing, either. He simply kept his gaze fixed on the cop cars outside, readying himself for the conversation about to ensue.

“Good morning.”

He didn’t reply to the cold greeting straight away. “Mm. Not anymore.”

“So.” Ryan stayed by the door at the opposite end of the room, one hand on his hip, the second holding a Starbucks coffee. “You gave up pretty easy.”

“What can I say.” He lazily turned, spreading his arms, a flat look on his face. “You got me, baby.”

“Apparently you didn’t even try to run.”

Shane was quiet for a moment, watching him. “No. I didn’t.”

Ryan waited for him to continue, continuing himself once this appeared futile. “And why not.”

Shane slipped his hands into his pockets, keeping his face guarded. “Was it an inconvenience for you or something?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

Shane shrugged. “I think that if I’d run, I’d be lying flat on my face, with who knows how many bullets in me.”

A silence. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.” Shane smiled at the flat look thrown his way, keeping the smile in place as Ryan moved up the room towards him. “I thought you didn’t want us to meet in person. You seemed pretty against it yesterday.”

“Two days ago.”

“That was two days ago?” Shane raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Being on the run really makes you lose your sense of time.”

“Four days isn’t that impressive of a time to be on the run,” said Ryan dryly, wandering to a halt a few steps away. “I’m a bit disappointed.”

Shane smiled wryly. “And what if I told you that I wanted you to catch me?”

Ryan shrugged. “I think you’d be lying.”

“Well, you’ll never know, will you?”

Ryan didn’t reply. He simply stood beside the table, a hand still resting on his hip, the other holding the coffee. Shane folded his arms across his chest in a manner of equal disdain, head tilted back, an eyebrow arched. They didn’t take their eyes off each other. Not for a second.

“I have a question, Ryan.”

“Don’t say my name,” said Ryan coolly. “Brings back bad memories.”

Shane grinned at this. “Oh, will I revert back to Bergara?”

“You’ll call me detective.”

“Oh, I don’t think I will.” Shane kept the smile lingering on his face. “I have a question for you. A few questions, actually.”

Ryan wanted to sit. They both wanted to sit. But just like in the rest of the animal kingdom, sitting meant you were unprepared for a potential attack. So they remained standing.

“I don’t want to hear your questions,” said Ryan coolly. “But I actually have to.”

“You have to?”

“Just spit it out, dude.”

Shane bit back his smile as the other man glared up at him. “Your guys arrived here about four hours ago, right? Why did it take you so long to get here?”

Ryan took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I was unexpectedly busy.”

“Mm. Okay. As insulted as I am that I’m not your priority, here’s the follow-up question.” Shane leaned forwards towards him, like a teacher scolding a student. “Is your late arrival anything to do with the fact that I haven’t been thrown back in prison for the rest of my life yet?”

“Yet. That’s the important word there.”

“Answer the question.”

“I’m the cop here, Shane,” said Ryan icily. “So watch it.”

Shane held his fierce gaze, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I love it when you try to be in charge, Ryan. I really do.”

Ryan didn’t look away for a few moments. “Goldsworth. What do you know about him.”

“Ah.” Shane finally took a seat, stretching out in a fashion so leisurely it was almost obnoxious. “You’ve done a bit of digging, have you?”

“Just answer the question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

Ryan gritted his teeth. “I don’t see why I should.”

“You see, this is the problem with us,” said Shane, nonchalantly gesturing between them. “There’s a lack of trust here. A lack of communication.”

“There’s a lot of communication,” said Ryan flatly. “In the form of annoying phone calls.”

“I mean communication of ideas,” said Shane casually, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. “I don’t trust you, Ryan. And you don’t trust me. And that’s that.”

“I have reason not to trust you,” said Ryan in a voice tight with anger. “Seeing as you were lying to me and hindering the entire investigation into the Tromps from the very beginning.”

“I’m a fucking  _criminal_ , Ryan,” he replied just as angrily. “Or did that slip your non-existent mind?”

Ryan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “God. Here.” He placed the coffee cup down hard on the table, a bit of the liquid hopping out the top. “Yours. For the one I threw out the window.”

Shane stared at the cup, an elbow on the table, fingers resting pensively over his mouth. He raised his eyes to stare at Ryan. He didn’t speak.

“I didn’t do anything to it,” said Ryan flatly. “Because Helen went and got it, so I didn’t get the chance.”

“What is this, Bergara?” Shane pointed at the coffee like it was a live bomb, not taking his eyes from Ryan’s. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

Ryan sighed heavily, the sigh turning to an angry exhale as he turned his head aside. “Peace offering.”

“Peace offering?!” Shane’s eyes widened as he automatically got back to his feet, on edge instantly. “Peace offering? From you? For me? For me and you to be- to be peaceful? Together?”

Ryan had his eyes fixed on the ceiling, jaw set. “Yes.”

“Tell me what you’re up to right now, you little dick.” Shane glanced from side-to-side, wondering if he was about to be taken out then and there. “Did you find Goldsworth? Was the deal for you to kill me?”

“Would you shut up?” Ryan glared at him, getting one just as heated in response. “No. I didn’t find Goldsworth. I thought you’d found him.”

“No, because if I’d found him, he’d be dead,” said Shane icily. “Now what the fuck is going on here, Ryan. Tell me.”

“You better watch your tone, Shane.”

“Oh I’m so sorry, mom.” The taller man gave a dramatic roll of his eyes, hands on his hips. “This is crazy. And you’re not gonna fool me with any offerings of bullshit peace.” He picked up the coffee, feeling the liquid still nice and hot through the cup. “But I’m still gonna drink this, because I’m dying for a caffeine boost.”

“No, dude.” Ryan swiped for it, seeming to forget that it was literal boiling coffee. “Give it back! It’s only if you-”

“I’m gonna drink it because I want coffee!” said Shane with a scowl, struggling to hold the shorter man back with one hand. “Get off me, you gremlin.”

“Don’t drink it! Don’t you dare!” Ryan ignored the muttered curses as he reached for it, Shane’s free arm crossing his neck, holding him back. “You drink that and you accept the peace terms! Automatically!”

“God, fuck you!” Shane gave him one hard shove, Ryan stumbling back a few steps, an indignant glower on his face. “What terms? What are you up to, Ryan?”

“Put down the coffee and I’ll tell you.”

Shane exhaled sharply, placing the cup back down on the smooth table and pushing it away. “Fine. I won’t drink your stupid coffee.”

“Sit down,” said Ryan, pointing at the chair Shane had been sitting in.

“No.”

“Just sit!”

“No!”

Ryan pulled out his own chair with a bit more force than necessary, plonking himself down on it. “Now. Sit.”

Shane sat down stiffly, one hand on the table, ready to bolt at any second. “I don’t like this. I really don’t.”

“I don’t care.” Ryan closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I… I may have made a- I may have been a bit rash.” A pause. “In my decision-making.”

Shane watched him warily, eyes narrowed. “You mean in your vengeance quest.”

“I know what I meant, and I meant what I said.” Ryan took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I did a bit of looking into Goldsworth. I- He’s worse. Than you.”

“Oh, just a tiny bit,” said Shane, the sarcasm evident in his voice, in the gesture as he held his thumb and forefinger centimeters away from each other. “The tiniest amount. But don’t worry about the literal mob leader, Ryan. Come after me for three years because I’m such a terror to society!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Ryan folded his arms on the table, resting his head on them, sighing wearily. “God. Fuck.”

Shane was quiet for a moment, watching him. “You okay?”

A pause, as Ryan remembered the last time he’d heard Shane say that. It had been the first night in Bathurst. The night Ryan had glimpsed the first grey smudge in Shane’s otherwise black moral compass.

“Why do you do that?”

Shane blinked. “Huh?”

“Why do you have to sometimes just be nice?” Ryan raised his head, giving him a sidelong glare. “Why can’t you just be a bad person?”

Shane felt himself redden at this.  _You have a heart, Shane Madej. You have a heart of candyfloss._  “I don’t know. Why do  _you_  sometimes have to be nice?”

“I’ve never been nice to you.”

“That first night, at the motel,” began Shane, slowly, as he pulled the memory back. “When I tried to steal your car, you still bothered to take my cuffs off instead of making me sleep in them.” He scratched his beard as he spoke. “I don’t think I would’ve done the same.”

Ryan went quiet. “I think we should stop this conversation.”

“Yeah. I think so too.”

A long silence. Ryan got to his feet, keeping his back to the other man, hands linked behind his head. Shane quickly averted his gaze from the way the shirt fabric tightened around Ryan’s shoulders and arms, his fists clenching where they were.

“I talked to the superintendent,” began Ryan, staying facing the wall. “About you. About whether you could be an asset regarding Goldsworth.”

“Well, I’m genuinely surprised, Ryan.” Shane raised his eyebrows. “What made you want to vouch for me all of a sudden?”

“I didn’t vouch for you.” Ryan half-turned to scowl at him, seeing the dry look on the other man’s face. “The super did. I tried to make her see sense. You’re a liability. You’re untrustworthy. You’re a liar, and you’re a cheater, and you’re an opportunistic bastard who’d sell his own mother for the right price.”

Shane’s face went blank with anger at these words, his eyes sharp. “And you’re so pure and good. How could I forget.”

“I’m better than you.”

“That doesn’t sound too promising. From what you apparently know about me.” Shane got to his feet, keeping his eyes fixed on the shorter man’s as he came to a halt barely a foot away. “You’re a proud man, Ryan. You always have been. But now you’re embarrassed. Because I treated you like a cheap whore.”

Ryan inhaled sharply at this, mouth open slightly, eyes narrowing.

“But since you’re too proud, you won’t hand off the case to anyone else.” Shane tilted his head condescendingly. “Am I correct?”

Ryan took a futile moment to try and cool himself down. “You seem to think that since we screwed once-”

“A few times.”

“-in a shitty motel-”

“And a car.”

“-that you know me now or some shit. You think you’ve got me sussed out.” Ryan jabbed a hard finger into the taller man’s chest, letting it rest there. “Well let me enlighten you, Shane. You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m willing to do-”

“To take me down?” said Shane dryly.

“-to do my job,” finished Ryan through gritted teeth, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Which is to keep people safe.”

Shane pressed his lips together in a tight smile. “Mm. And I’ve always compromised the safety of the people.”

“No. You haven’t.” Ryan swallowed, like he was trying to stop himself from throwing up. He dropped his gaze from Shane’s puzzled one, taking a deep, deep breath. “My boss asked- I have to- You-” Another deep breath, eyes closed. “God, I don’t want to say this.”

Shane let the smirk pull at the corner of his mouth. “You need something from me.”

Ryan let his head hang, clenched fists pressed against his hips. “God damnit, this is so fucking hard to say. I don’t think I can.”

Shane sat back in his chair with a blatantly smug smile. “I know a lot about Goldsworth, Ryan. A very  _helpful_  amount.”

“Fuck you. Don’t.” Ryan turned away, hands on his hips. “Fuck. Give me a minute.”

“I could really  _help_  you here, Ryan. If you asked nicely.” A pause. “We could  _help_ each other.”

Ryan raised his head, keeping his back to Shane. “Right.”

“So right.” Shane watched as the other man continued to ignore his physical presence in order to stay focused; a massive giveaway, really. “But I don’t give my help for free.”

“I haven’t even asked you to help.”

“Don’t waste my time here, Ryan.” Shane felt a sharp jitter go through him as the other man suddenly turned his head to glare at him. “I can either help you help me, or I can ruin your career. Your choice.”

Ryan raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Ruin my career?”

Shane sat in an effortlessly cocky fashion; legs spread, an arm resting across the back of the chair, his eyes fixed on Ryan’s. “Yes. Pretty easily, I’d say.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed as he turned to face him fully. “Oh, right. I see. You think I can’t help myself.”

“Mm.”

Ryan contemplated his next move for all of ten seconds. He let his gaze drift as he began to gradually unbutton his shirt, wandering towards Shane. “Right. Right, I get it. I can’t help myself. And I’m guessing that means that you think you can?”

Shane swallowed, straightening up a little in his chair as Ryan drew closer. “I didn’t say that.”

Ryan stopped just in front of him as he undid the last button. “No?”

“No.” Shane didn’t take his eyes off Ryan’s, his voice low, soft. “I’ll admit it. I still want you. I hate it, but I still want you, Ryan.” A quiet breath. “Every damn minute.”

He closed his eyes as Ryan placed a hand on the back of his neck, straddling him in the chair, nice and close. Ryan let his hand drift back around to cup the other man’s face, the light beard scratching his hand. His other arm rested around Shane’s shoulders.

“And what if I told you that I meant every word I said on the phone,” said Ryan quietly into his ear, feeling the fingers slip under his open shirt, rest on his hips. “Every single word.”

Shane’s lips brushed up the side of Ryan’s neck, the shorter man’s head tilting aside. “I’d do it.” A quiet inhale. “Whatever you told me. I’d do it.”

“Even though you’d definitely be putting your life on the line this time?”

Shane sighed heavily, eyes closed, their heads side-by-side. “So that’s your plan, hm?”

“Get you to get yourself killed by having sex with me?” Ryan smiled, bringing his head back, Shane’s eyes opening to land on his. “No. The simple fact that I  _could_  do that is satisfaction enough.”

“Then what is this, Ryan?” Shane let his hands travel further under the shirt, up his waist, slipping around to his back to pull him firmer against him. “Would all your police buddies be okay with what you’re doing right now?”

“A few. Not all. And definitely not the super.” Ryan let his finger distractedly trace down the other man’s throat, Shane tilting his head aside slightly as he did so. “But why did you think I didn’t have you brought to a station?”

Shane slipped a hand further up Ryan’s back, between his shoulder blades, pulling him forwards as he leaned in. “At first I thought it was because you’re stupid. Now I see it’s because you’re smart.” He mumbled the words against Ryan’s mouth. “Always surprising me.”

Ryan let his lips part, letting Shane in, the two of them inhaling deeply at the sensation. Shane’s hands were firm against his back, holding him upright, fingers digging in. Ryan kept one arm draped around the other man’s shoulders, his other hand pushing up through Shane’s hair. The kiss was heavy, heated, their mouths working ravenously against each other. Ryan began fumbling to undo the other man’s shirt buttons, frowning slightly as Shane simply brushed his hands aside, bringing Ryan back in. He took a hold of Ryan’s hair, pulling his head aside as he covered his bared neck in starved kisses, dying to just taste him. He could hear Ryan’s open-mouthed breaths in his ear, feel his chest heaving with them.

“Fuck.” Ryan kept one hand tangled in Shane’s hair to keep him in place, the other hooked around his neck. “Yeah, that’s- Fuck, right- Yeah.” A panted breath, his head relaxing against Shane’s, eyes closed. “Yeah. Oh,  _fuck_.”

Ryan brought his lower lip back into his mouth, biting on it, just enjoying the electrifying sensation of Shane’s tongue brushing against his skin. He tightened his fingers in Shane’s hair, pulling the man’s head back, planting his mouth on his again. Shane slipped an arm around Ryan’s neck, pulling him in more firmly, their bodies flush together, but still not close enough.

Shane got to his feet, walking Ryan back towards the table, the shorter man hopping up onto it. Shane swallowed, his nose sliding past Ryan’s, their lips hovering centimeters apart. He rested his hands either side of Ryan’s neck, tracing down to his shoulders, fingers slipping under the shirt to push it off down to his elbows. The fabric paused there, seeing as Ryan’s hands were occupied with unbuttoning the taller man’s shirt. But still, neither of them spoke. It was a record. Shane took hold of the bottom of his shirt once there was only a few buttons left, pulling it off over his head. He felt Ryan’s hands gripping his waist, Ryan’s lips against his chest, his neck. Warm, and strong. Shane threw the shirt onto the table, closing his eyes, biting hard on his lip.

“God, fuck.” He leaned down as Ryan tilted his head back, fingers brushing through the shorter man’s dark hair. “I- I have a better idea.”

Ryan’s eyes fluttered slightly as Shane’s parted lips brushed his, their hot breaths mingling. “For what?”

“For a peace offering.” Shane felt his mind wander the second Ryan’s mouth fixated on his throat, tilting his head back. “Fuck. Hold- Hold on.”

He moved to the door, double-checking it was locked before coming back. Ryan turned his head aside before their mouths could find each other again, eyes closed. He could feel Shane’s breath hot against the side of his face.

“What the hell are we doing?” said Ryan quietly.

Shane didn’t reply for a moment. “I don’t know.”

“You know what?” Ryan got down off the table, shrugging his shirt back up onto his shoulders. “You were right! I can’t help myself!”

Shane picked up his own shirt, his voice still quiet. “Me neither.”

“We can’t start doing this.” Ryan gestured vaguely at him, buttoning up his shirt. “We can’t start hooking up whenever anything like this happens. It’s ridiculous! We could both die, really!”

“But in the moment it’s so worth it, man.” Shane sighed, one hand on his hip, the other resting across his closed eyes. “Move away a bit.”

He heard the footsteps as Ryan backed away, finally opening his eyes to look at him. Still a bit too close, he thought. But he didn’t want Ryan to know quite how desperate he really was. He slipped his shirt back on, the white material only slightly rumpled.

“Too close,” muttered Ryan, sitting up onto the table, swinging his legs around and hopping down on the other side. “Okay. Okay, let’s talk.”

“Look.” Shane put a hand out, the other on his hip. “Look, I think we should try and be civilized here. Seeing as we have some sort of common goal.”

Ryan nodded slowly, hands on the back of the chair he was standing behind. “Yeah. Yeah, that was my original plan.”

“You could’ve just said so.”

“Oh, could I have?” said Ryan flatly. “I have a feeling that you would’ve thrown that back in my face. Instantly.”

“Well when you came in here first, I assumed you were still trying to personally assassinate me.” Shane raised a suspicious eyebrow. “But you’re apparently not angry anymore?”

“I am.” Ryan sighed heavily. “Livid. But I also like my job, and respect my boss. So here I am.”

“Here you are.” Shane sat down, folding his arms on the table between them. “Let’s stop wasting time here, Ryan. Just tell me what these peace terms are.”

“Right.” Ryan took a moment to compose himself. “The ASIO have wanted Goldsworth for a long time. Understandably. Homicides all over the place. And you’re the biggest potential asset regarding the whole thing.”

“Potential,” said Shane quietly, leaning back in his chair. “But go on.”

“The superintendent asked me to ask you…” A deep breath. “…to help. To help us get him.”

Shane smiled at the clear anger at the words on the other man’s face. “And what assistance could I provide that would aid you in your valiant quest?”

Ryan sat down himself, his face unreadable. “I was doing some thinking. And I think I can see how you and the Tromps are connected.”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “Well, Ryan. Hit me.”

“They had some money problems, clearly.” Ryan gestured freely as he spoke, his eyes not quite seeing Shane, instead following some literal mind map in front of him. “Not too sure how. But they hired you to clean their stuff up. You agreed, but then I caught you and jailed you, right on time. And if I remember correctly, your ‘receptionist’ at the time was a less-well-known Ricky Goldsworth. I remember, because this receptionist visited you in your cell the same day I did.” Ryan finally looked at him properly. “Goldsworth was involved from the beginning, wasn’t he?”

Shane didn’t reply.

“He does some loan shark stuff on the side, right?”

Shane tilted his head back, eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“So he was lending to the Tromps. They ran into trouble paying him back. You weren’t around to help them.” Ryan spread his arms. “Goldsworth got mad. The Tromps were in danger. They ran. You heard Helen and Steven mention them, and jumped at the opportunity to help your old friends out.”

Shane snorted. “And why would I put myself in danger for some clients?”

“Because you’re not all iron and ice, Shane. As much as you like to pretend you are.” Ryan pointed at him, a nonchalant gesture. “You felt bad because you let them down. They were in danger because of you. And they still are.”

Shane took a quiet breath. “You know, sometimes I don’t know whether I want to punch you or kiss you.”

Ryan slapped the table. “I was right! I knew I was right.”

“Almost right.” Shane leaned forwards, folded arms resting on the table. “Where does my relationship with Goldsworth come into it?”

Ryan shrugged, looking a tiny bit irritated. “I don’t know. You were feeling bored?”

“No. I wasn’t.” Shane smiled. “He was a loan shark, yes. He still is. It’s actually his main thing, but whatever. And he was a threat to my business.”

“But you’re a money-launderer.”

“Yeah, and he was putting pressure on my clients to up their profits, which was putting pressure on me. So I-” Shane paused, looking thoughtful. He got to his feet. “You don’t actually need to know the rest. What you need to know is that I’m willing to help.”

Ryan looked at the hand extended towards him, eyes narrowed. “No strings attached.”

“Absolutely none.”

Ryan also stood up, suspicious gaze flickering between the hand and Shane’s face. “No double-crossing. No lying.”

“Unless its beneficial to the cause.”

Ryan went to take the hand, frowning as Shane suddenly pulled it away. “Hey, what? What now?”

“I have one request.”

Ryan gritted his teeth. “What.”

“Immunity.”

“No. No, not a fucking hope.” Ryan pointed vehemently at him. “Not a hope in hell, you dick. Don’t even try asking again.”

“I didn’t ask,” said Shane coolly. “I demanded.”

“You’re not-”

“It’s a necessity.” Shane placed his hands on his hips, seeing Ryan’s offered hand clench into a fist. “I’m not helping you if I’m just gonna be locked up at the end anyway.”

“C'mon, dude.” Ryan pressed his hands against the table, head hanging. “Don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

Shane bit his lip at the blatantly defeated attitude of the other man, feeling just a tiny bit bad. Unlike Goldsworth, he’d never been one to torture people. And this was right on the border. He glanced away for a second.

“At least unfreeze my assets.”

Ryan looked up at him, seeming genuinely surprised at this compromise. “…I’ll see what I can do.”

“No. No, you’ll give me an answer.” Shane pointed a finger at the ground. “Now.”

Ryan straightened up, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t-”

“I can’t help you unless I have appropriate funding,” said Shane with a small smile. “Which I can provide myself. As you probably know.”

Ryan sighed sharply. “Right. Right, I’ll get you access to your bank account again. But! It ends when Goldsworth gets caught.”

“Nope, I-”

“I’m not compromising on that!”

“Then you can take your offer and shove it, Ryan.” Shane turned away, pacing down towards the door. “You’re making a huge mistake here, man. But so be it.”

“Think about what I’m offering you, Shane.” The tone of Ryan’s voice made Shane come to a halt, made him actually listen. “Think hard about it. You’ll have your cash, free to do what you want with it. Up until Goldsworth is caught.” A pause. “Who knows what might happen after. If planned right.”

Shane slowly turned, a frown on his face. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“What do you think I’m saying?” Ryan met him at the end of the table, the end furthest from the looming window. “I’m making you an offer that you’d be stupid to refuse.”

Shane looked him up and down, still openly wary. “I get twenty-four hours.”

“No.”

“Twelve hours.”

“Nothing,” said Ryan firmly. “Because I’m giving you the opportunity to plan it all to absolute perfection. You shouldn’t need time.”

Shane raised an eyebrow at this. “Right.”

Ryan extended his hand again, not taking his eyes from the taller man’s. “Deal?”

Shane took the offered hand, giving it a firm shake. “Deal.”

They remained where they were, neither moving to unlock the door. Ryan cleared his throat, placing a hand against Shane’s chest to push him aside. Shane calmly took the hand, pulling Ryan back, the shorter man stumbling against him.

“So since we’re basically allies now,” said Shane with a playful grin, Ryan scowling up at him. “That changes our whole dynamic a little, right?”

Ryan took his hand back, keeping up the impatient act. “No, not really. You’re still a criminal.”

“I know.”

“So it’s still a bit-”

“Scandalous?”

“I was  _going_  to say-”

“Exciting?”

Ryan paused. “Well, a little. But no.”

“Hot?” persisted Shane with a smirk, a hand resting on the back of Ryan’s neck as he leaned down.

Ryan kept his gaze lowered, head tilted back, feeling Shane’s breath against his mouth. He swallowed.  _Uh oh._ "Shane."

A pause. "Yes?"

"We shouldn't..." Ryan sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he hurriedly yanked his tie off over his head. "Fine. Quick. Just a quick one."

"That's all I need, baby." Shane closed his eyes as Ryan pulled him down into a hard kiss, his hands grasping the shorter man firmly, arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. The feeling of Ryan's mouth on his, the low sighs, made him feel just as desperate for more as the first time. “Off. Get this off.”

He took two fistfuls of Ryan’s shirt as he maneuvered him back towards the table, ripping it right open with a hard yank. He saw the hot flush across the shorter man’s face, the hard glint in his eyes at the move. Ryan pushed himself up onto the table, drawing Shane into another hungry kiss, lying back on the cool surface.

“This is hands-down the best table I’ll probably ever have sex on,” said Shane as he joined the other man, leaning down to kiss him again. “There’s so much space!”

“Oh my God, shut up.” Ryan stayed where he was, biting his lip as the taller man straightened up on his knees, once again ridding himself of his shirt. “But you’re right. If I owned a table like this, it most definitely would not just be used for dinner.”

“It’d be my sex table.”

“Okay, shh. We have to be quiet."

“And you’re the snack. On the table.”

"Jesus Christ." Ryan closed his eyes, sighing wearily as he rested his head back against the table. “I really have no idea how I'm still turned on after that.”

* * *

Helen checked her watch again, a frown on her face. It had been at least half an hour since Ryan had gone in to try and come to a tentative deal with Shane. She wasn't sure if this was a good sign or a bad sign. She glanced at the door, biting worriedly on her lip. Andrew had tried the door already; locked from the inside. She was beginning to see that this was indeed a bad sign. 

"Oh my _God_ , how long have they been in there?" sighed Steven exasperatedly, lying back on the plush couch. "It feels like hours, man!"

"It's been fifteen minutes," lied Helen, pretending to thoroughly examine her watch again. "You're just impatient."

"Fifteen minutes?" Another hard sigh. "I'm gonna go crazy."

"Look, Ryan knows him better than any of us ever will," said Helen firmly. "Give him time. He'll talk Shane around."

"Oh, I'm sure he will," said Andrew, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "No doubt."

She ignored this, refusing to speculate. "Look, this is hard for Ryan, alright? We all know Shane will make him literally grovel before agreeing to help."

"Oh, he's not that bad."

The three of them sat upright at this sudden voice, turning to face the owner. A woman stood in the doorway, her hair wild, glasses perched precariously on the unruly curls. A mug of coffee was in her hand. Steven got up off the couch, sharing a look with the other two.

"Who are you?" asked Andrew after a few minutes of puzzled silence. "You have identification? Badge?"

"Oh, no, I'm not a cop," she chuckled, rolling her eyes like it was the craziest thing she'd ever heard. "God, I don't hate myself! No, I'm Shane's friend."

"What?" Helen blinked, still entirely confused. "I've never seen you before."

"Rubin. Sara Rubin." She moved further into the room, extending a hand to Helen. "Do I detect another female sidekick in this situation at hand?"

Helen hesitated before shaking the hand. "Uh, yeah. I guess."

"Cool!"

"Wait, what do you do?" asked Andrew all of a sudden, eyes narrowed. "You a criminal?"

"Oh, kind of." She shrugged. "I stole a few cars in my past. Met Shane in the temporary hold before prison, that whole thing." She grinned. "But I'm free now, boyyy!"

"Unless you were an accomplice in Shane's escape," said Helen slowly, an eyebrow raised. "Did you help Shane escape?"

Sara paused, face frozen. "...I don't know a Shane. Did I say I knew a Shane?"

"Yeah, like literally ten seconds ago," said Steven with a shrug. "So-"

The door opened, promptly ending the cross-examination that Sara had accidentally dug herself into. Helen raised her eyebrows expectantly as Ryan entered the room, Shane strolling along behind him, not a care in the world. 

"Well?" asked Steven almost instantly, eyes wide. "What's the verdict, man?"

Ryan stood in front of them, hands on his hips. "Right. Right, here's the deal."

Sara leaned over to Shane as Ryan explained the new deal to his coworkers, keeping her voice low. " _That's_ Ryan?"

Shane didn't look at her, pretending to be listening to the louder conversation at hand. "Mmhmm."

"Okay. Damn." 

"Mmhmmm."

She slyly nudged his hand, where there were light teeth marks around his thumb. "Did you...?"

He quickly slipped his hand into his pocket, pressing his lips together to hide his smile. "Yep."

"Just in there? Like, just now?"

He gave her a quick wink in reply. Sara slapped his arm lightly, rolling her eyes.

"You're crazy, Shane Madej."

"You know what?" he said, as the reality of what he'd agreed to began to hit home as Ryan explained it. "I think I actually might be."

 


	12. Development

The atmosphere was understandably tense, despite the smooth sound of Roberta Flack floating from the record player. The evening sun slanted in through the giant window. The dining room of Holly Horsley’s mansion now consisted of four cops, one con-man, and one thief. They lingered around the end of the long dining table, unsure if it was inappropriate or not to chat among themselves. Steven and Andrew did so anyway. Helen and Sara offered to go and make coffees, just to pass the time. This left Shane and Ryan idle, both caught up in their own respective thoughts. Oh yes, if there was one thing left out of crime dramas, it was the waiting.

Shane sat against the edge of the table, arms folded across his chest, legs crossed at the ankles. Ryan slouched in the nearest chair, one foot up on the table, elbows resting on the arms of his chair. His phone remained in his hands, balancing on his chest. Annoyingly silent. He sighed heavily.

“You sigh too much,” said Shane flatly, his gaze still distant. 

“You talk too much.” Ryan looked up at him with just his eyes, a moody glower on his face. “But you don’t hear me complaining.”

“Oh, I’ve heard enough of your complaining to last me the rest of my life.”

“It’s funny,” said Ryan in a tone that implied the exact opposite. “I just said you talk too much, yet you’re still talking.”

Shane smiled down at him. “You want to know what else is funny? You can’t tell me what to do anymore. Your little power trip is officially over, Ryan.”

“My little power trip.” Ryan rolled his eyes, distractedly spinning his phone between his thumb and forefinger. “I thought you liked it when I was in charge.”

“Mm.” Shane tore his eyes away, shoulders rising as he took a deep breath. “Depends on the context.”

Ryan watched him closely, eyes narrowing slightly. “Can I tell you something?”

Shane raised an eyebrow at him. “I suppose.”

“It’s a secret.” Ryan smiled at him, spreading his arms with little to no enthusiasm. “I can’t just say it out loud. But I feel like I should just get it off my chest before we start this whole thing.”

Shane straightened up off the table with an impatient roll of his eyes, moving to stand in front of the other man. “What.”

“You’re not close enough.”

Shane couldn’t stop the flicker of a smile that flashed across his face, taking his hands from his pockets so that he could prop himself up on the arms of Ryan’s chair, leaning over him. “How about now.”

Ryan tilted his head back slightly, fingers propping up his chin. “Mm. Bit more.”

The taller man opted to get down on a knee, resting an arm along Ryan’s leg, which was still propped up on the table. He raised his eyebrows. “Good?”

“Good.” Ryan leaned forwards, slipping a hand around the back of the other man’s neck, holding him in place as he whispered in his ear. “If you even think about double-crossing me like you did last time... Let’s just say you won’t be getting a third offer.” He moved back so that their faces were almost touching, his eyes fixed on Shane’s. “You get what I’m saying?”

Shane nodded, his mouth closing as he swallowed. He didn’t take his eyes from the other man’s, even as he rested a hand against Ryan’s neck, thumb resting on the side of his face, fingers around the back of his neck, fingertips brushing his hair. Before he even knew what he was doing, he drew Ryan forwards into a soft kiss, their lips pressing together. Ryan's eyes fluttered closed, his own hands moving to hold the other man’s face as their tongues brushed. Shane pulled back slightly, his gaze lowered, a light flush across his face.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of you,” he mumbled, his fingers running up through Ryan’s hair. 

“Oh, wh- Come  _on_ , guys!” Steven slapped the table, like you would to stop a dog from eating your dinner. “No! Keep it in your pants for more than five minutes, yeah?”

"This," said Andrew, pointing between the two as Shane straightened back up. "Is going to be a total disaster. Crash. Bang. Explosion."

Shane and Ryan exchanged a quick glance, both waiting for the other to say something. But what was there to say? That it _wasn't_ true? Thankfully, Ryan's phone finally rang, ending the conversation. He quickly answered.

"Well? What's up?"

"Jacoba's in hospital," said Kelsey, the sound of a car engine in the background. "She was trying to check into a hotel and the manager recognized her. So we're just waiting for Mark now."

"And the house? Is it being watched?"

"I don't think so. But the kids have been brought in for questioning. Jacoba's gonna go to them." 

Ryan sighed wearily. "Right. Right, that puts some pressure on us. When will you guys get here?"

"Whenever we find Mark," she replied just as wearily. "How's the situation playing out there?"

He paused, watching as Helen and Sara returned with coffees, handing them out. "Weird. A bit weird. But manageable."

"That's all that matters." Kelsey sounded distracted, TJ's voice audible in the background, talking to some pedestrian or something. "Catch you on the flip-side, Ry Guy."

"Wait, wait, don't hang up!" TJ's voice grew louder as he took the phone. "Hey, is it true you and Shane fucked?"

Ryan closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "...Fine, yes. Yes." The excited yelling from the other end of the line had him hold the phone away, eyes narrowed. "Jesus."

"I knew you would!" shouted Kelsey over her partner. "I goddamn knew it!"

"Yeah, the wedding's next week," said Ryan dryly, a flat look on his face. "And neither of you are invited."

He hung up, chucking the phone onto the table as he slumped back in his chair. He barely had time to fume in silence before a cup of coffee landed on the table in front of him, Shane holding a matching one. The taller man took the seat beside him, legs crossed as he leaned back.

"Horsley's almost here, Ryan," he said with a sly smile, mug halfway to his mouth. "You're about to see me in all my devilish glory."

"And she's got company, hm?"

"Surprisingly." Shane took a sip of the hot drink, his gaze fixed on the view out the window. He wondered if Horsley would sell this place to him if he asked nicely enough. "I thought you would've been on McClintock straight away."

"Oh, we rang him alright," said Ryan, picking up his own mug. "No response. Another person blindly loyal to you."

Shane snorted. "God, Ryan. Blind loyalty does _not_ exist in my line of work. There's the stupid and rich, and the smart and richer."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "And you're the smart and richer?"

"I think you know the answer to that question." He smiled as the other man rolled his eyes, a gesture that was beginning to just about border on fond. "You know, I actually feel a bit nervous, Ryan."

Ryan frowned, finishing the sip he was taking. "Huh? Why?"

"I don't know. It feels like I'm introducing you to my family or some shit." 

Ryan laughed at this, lightly slapping the table. "No! No, that's way too serious. I'm not ready for that level of commitment."

"You're about to meet my strict mom and my goofy dad," continued Shane with a grin, feeling a little twinge of worry at how much he liked seeing the other man smile. "I hope you're ready."

"I couldn't be more unprepared if I tried."

"Good. They'll trust you more."

Helen lightly tapped her partner's shoulder, appearing behind him. "Hey, Ryan, can we talk for a second?"

Shane got to his feet, gesturing at his seat. "Here, I'll give you some room. Don't be too long though." He gave her a playful wink. "I might start feeling jealous."

Ryan turned his head away to hide his smile, biting his lip. His smile dropped the second he saw Helen's face as she sat across from him. He raised his eyebrows, straightening back up, like a puppy being scolded.

"What?"

"Ryan, what are you doing?" she asked, quiet but serious. "You two are laughing over here like you're the best of friends. You do remember who he is, right?"

He reddened, looking appropriately ashamed. "Uh, yeah, of course. I remember."

"Remember that time when he literally shot you, yeah?"

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, his smile completely gone. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"And remember only a couple of days ago when he abandoned you in the middle of nowhere?"

"Yes." His voice was quiet, gaze lowered. "Yes. I remember."

"Then maybe act like it, Ry." She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. "I don't have anything personal against the guy, alright? But I do know he can't be trusted. We both know that."

He nodded, looking into his mug. "I know."

Helen pressed her lips together in a worried line, watching his face. "C'mon, man. Don't let this get any messier than it already is."

"Yeah. I won't." 

The doorbell interrupted Helen's pep talk, everyone in the room straightening up. Shane placed his coffee down, heading out the door, followed by Steven and Andrew. Five minutes later, a loud male voice reached the dining room, a voice that would've given Santa Clause a run for his money.

"Oh my boy, I'm glad to see you again!" The sound of a hearty slap on the back, Shane's coughed laugh following. "It's been quiet without you, yes it has. Much less laughter!"

The door opened. In came the tall figure of Holly Horsley, in her grey suit, with her grey eyes and grey hair and silver wire-framed glasses. Her expression was as metallic as the rest of her. Behind her came Shane, and a man who looked like he belonged in a child's storybook as the friendly father figure. His hair was a brown so dark it was almost black, his beard salt and pepper. His eyes twinkled, a lively shade of green, about as bright as the cravat around his neck. He was still chatting away to Shane, having to look right up at him. He barely came up to Shane's shoulder.

"The dark side has landed, hm?" McClintock smiled kindly at everyone in the room, shaking their hands one by one, warm and firm, getting all their names. "Well, I haven't shook hands with so many officers since I got that first-degree murder charge acquitted!"

Horsley busied herself stirring up a stiff drink, flicking through her records for one she deemed appropriate for the room. Another Roberta Flack song, she decided. _Tryin' Times._ Most definitely appropriate.

"And who are you?" asked McClintock as he finally got to Ryan, extended a meaty hand.

"Detective Ryan Bergara," he replied with a hint of a smile; this man was an illegal art dealer, after all. Just a super friendly one. "Nice to meet you."

McClintock had taken a theatrical step back at the name, eyes wide as he spun to fix them on Shane. " _This_ is Ryan Bergara? Well, Shane, you've got yourself a looker!" He turned back to Ryan before Shane even got the chance to respond, slapping a hand on Ryan's arm. "You treat my boy right, you hear? He may be all hard on the outside, but he's a big softie on the inside. A human Twinkie, that's what I call him!"

Ryan was blushing furiously, a similar coloring on Shane's face a few feet away. _Holy shit. It is like meeting his family_.

"He acts like he doesn't care, but he does!" continued McClintock, ignoring Shane's muttered attempts at shutting him up. "Oh he told me he's only ever cared once in his life! But he wouldn't tell me when. Nope, he sealed up like a clam."

"C'mon, man," said Shane moodily. "Not in front of everyone."

"I think that's enough," said Horsley, her cool voice ending the jollity as she turned to face them. "We have business to attend to."

"Oh, yes, of course!" boomed McClintock, rolling his eyes as he heading to the nearest chair. "All business, Ms Horsley is. Work this, work that, never-ending!"

"Some of us have actual jobs, Bernard."

"You're a close friend, Holly. Call me Banjo."

"No." She took a seat at the head of the table, the others gathering around her. It was a position that suited her more than anything else could have. "I will allow this house to be a temporary station for the people here, but no one else. There's enough room for all of you. There's food in the kitchen. Goldsworth has never been. It's a safe place."

"Do you still have the jammer set up?" asked Shane, folding his arms on the table. "We good to keep using our phones?"

"Yes."

"And how about funding?" asked McClintock, slapping both hands down on the table, Horsley tiredly picking up her drink before the impact. It was a gesture he must do frequently enough. "You know my pockets are ready. I owe young Madej here a good lot."

"I'm not that young," said Shane dryly, resting his chin on his hand.

"You're a young man to me, Shane. Most are!"

"We'll need to work out a plan," said Horsley, before they could take off again. "How to get Goldsworth in the open. How to find him, first of all. Note his habits that he's always had, locate some of his more questionably loyal henchmen, corner him."

"The docks are where most of his transactions happen," said Shane, his voice suddenly very serious altogether. His business mode had been activated. "Hard cash. He usually uses the same boats. I'd know some of the usual carriers to see."

"But you can't go down there," said McClintock, his thick brows knitted. "You're not exactly inconspicuous."

"But we can." Ryan gestured at his co-workers seated across from him, seeing the smile of approval on Shane's face. "Andrew and Steven never worked his cases. No one would recognize them."

"Excellent." Horsley reached into her bag, taking out a refill pad, popping the lid off her pen. "Let's begin fine-tuning some points."

None of the cops spoke. Leave the criminals to what they do best; conniving, scheming, avoiding detection. Ryan was too distracted to speak, anyway. He was gazing at Shane like a teenager would their high school crush, chin resting in his hand, subconsciously biting on his lip. Imagining seeing Shane at his dirty work had always made him angry, but seeing it now? In real life? Seeing Shane actually take something seriously for once, a slight frown on his face, his voice low, words careful? Ryan swallowed, feeling his heartbeat pick up. He felt a sharp kick, turning his head to see Helen shaking her head at him.

Ryan quickly excused himself to go to the bathroom, taking a few minutes to cool down. Well. This might turn out to be a bit more complicated than he'd expected.

* * *

It was almost midnight. It was almost midnight, yet no one was sleeping. There was an overall air of excitement around the giant building, which Horsley had generously leased as a makeshift police station. It was beneficial to her, anyway; how could she be a crooked lawyer if police were living in her house? Checkmate, media. 

Ryan quietly opened his door, peering out into the corridor. Helen was in the room across the way. Andrew and Steven were sharing the room further down, from which came sporadic giggles and stifled snorts. Shane and the curly-haired woman were in the two rooms at the other end of the corridor. Horsley was in her giant master room, upstairs on the smaller third floor, which was still a luxurious condo in itself. Ryan closed the door after him, trying to recall which way the kitchen was. He wanted a glass of water. What he really wanted was Shane, but perhaps a glass of water would do. Thirst was thirst, right? Nonetheless, he paused outside Shane's door, wondering if he should knock or not. If they should start something that they really shouldn't start. He laid a hand softly against the door, closing his eyes, sighing quietly. Then he moved on.

He promptly got lost in the branching corridors, feeling like a first year at Hogwarts. Were the staircases moving? Were the pictures watching him? He pulled his jumper sleeves down over his hands, continuing on, trying not to let the little bubble of panic in his chest expand and explode. He wasn't going to be lost forever. There was no way he'd be lost forever. It was still just a house at the end of the day. A giant, sprawling, echoing house, with every corridor almost identical, and every room like the one before. Despite wearing both a jumper and a t-shirt, the corridors felt a little chilly. Unused. Abandoned. He swallowed hard.

The murmured voices made him pause, go quiet, his heart jumping in his chest. They were coming from the room at the end of the dark hallway he had found himself in, a golden pillar of light fallen across the floor. Ryan crept towards it, coming to a halt outside, where he shamelessly eavesdropped on Shane and McClintock's late-night conversation, just audible over a crackling fire.

"Yes, that sounds like it would work. A beautiful plan."

"Yeah."

"And I'll just come around then?" Ah. Sara, too.

"Yeah, but you'll have to be ready." Shane sounded tired, his voice sleepy, gruff. "I'll be ready. If everything goes as planned, we'll be out of the city in an hour."

A pause. "I wonder why Ryan's letting you do this."

Ryan brought his ear closer to the door at the mention of he himself, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know." Shane's voice was pensive, the sound of ice clinking in a glass following it. "He can be strange like that."

"Strange?"

"Surprisingly... kind, I guess. What I really wanted was immunity, but really, he couldn't do that."

"Oh, of course not," said McClintock wisely. "He'd be dropped from the force like that." A click of fingers. "But the fact he's going to turn a blind eye to you escaping... That's not so easily explained, my boy."

A sigh. "I know. I didn't expect it. At all."

Sara was quiet for a moment. "You think he likes you?"

"No! No way. He's just... honorable, I guess." A bitter laugh. "More than I am."

Another silence. "And do you like him?"

The silence lingered. "Sara. Stop."

Ryan felt the heat rush to his face, his eyes widening slightly. _Oh no_.

"You can tell me, Shane. I won't blab!"

"I don't like him," said Shane quietly. "I can't like him. That would just be- It would be catastrophic."

McClintock's smile was audible in his voice. "I think he likes you, Shane. He's an easy fellow to read."

Ryan closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall. Maybe he should just burst in, break up the conversation right then. Before it got too close.

"I really don't think he does." Shane gave a small laugh. "I mean, I really hope he doesn't. The whole sex part alone is, well, first of all it's amazing. But second of all, it's dangerous."

"I've seen the way he looks at you when you're talking, man."

Ryan opened his eyes again, edging closer to the partly-open door. What was it? What did he do? He wasn't even aware that he looked at him a certain way.

"He just stares at you," she continued, sounding almost wistful. "With this soft smile on his face. I mean, I need a man who looks at me the way Ryan looks at you."

"Bullshit," replied Shane immediately. "No way. He doesn't."

"He looks at you like you're the fucking light of his life, man. It's adorable."

"Sara, shut up. That's not true." A sharp laugh of disbelief. "Why the hell would he? He hates me, everyone knows that."

"I wouldn't be so sure, bro."

Ryan was about to run, about to flee from the troubling conversation, when the next few words stopped him in his tracks.

"It might just be the whiskey talking," said Shane, his voice still quiet. "And you need to promise never to tell anyone this, ever, but... I think I might like him. A tiny bit."

Sara's squeal was promptly cut off by her own hand. "Yes! Yes, I knew it!"

"It's just when I look at him sometimes, I get, like, butterflies?" Shane talked slowly, carefully. "And I thought it might stop once we'd fucked, but they didn't. Like, he looks at me, and I get all jittery. Is that liking someone?"

"Oh that's liking someone, boy." McClintock whistled through his teeth. "Someone you should not be liking!"

Ryan didn't hear the rest of the conversation, standing in stunned silence, mouth hanging open. He turned away, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, finally locating the dark kitchen. He stood at the sink for a long moment, hands pressed to the cool surface. _Oh God. Oh God, no. Don't let us start liking each other. Don't let the emotions push in_. He wasn't sure how long he stood there for. But the voices grew closer, and all of a sudden Shane and Sara were there, bringing the empty glasses in. Ryan turned to look at them, seeing the two jump in alarm, yelp, grab at each other like Scooby Doo characters.

"It's just me!" said Ryan, raising his hands. "Just me. Ryan."

"Oh?" Sara instantly pushed her glass into Shane's hand, turning on her heel. "Well I'm suddenly super tired and need to sleep right now immediately. Bye!"

"Sara. Sara, don't you-" Shane let out a quiet curse once it was evident she wasn't coming back, lingering by the door with the two glasses. He didn't turn on the light. "So, uh, what's got you up so late?"

 _You_. "Wanted water." _Wanted you_.

"Boring." Shane crossed the wooden floor towards him, placing the glasses down beside the sink. His eyes shone in the dark, in the pale moonlight coming through the window. "The water isn't going to magically appear in your hand, man."

"I know that," said Ryan dismissively, still not moving from the sink. He swallowed. "Uh, earlier, when McClintock said, y'know, when he said you only showed that you cared about someone once... When was it?"

Shane didn't respond, still leaning on the sink, head turned to watch him.

"Shane." Ryan swallowed again, taking another step towards him. "Was it- Was it me?"

Still no response. Shane straightened up, running a hand back through his hair, which bounced back up as his fingers passed through.

"Was it when you called the ambulance for me?" said Ryan quietly, his big eyes glittering in the low light. "Just tell me, dude."

Shane stood with his hands on his hips, head turned aside, lips pressed together. "Goodnight, Ryan."

"Shane. Shane, wait." He reached out, grabbing the taller man's arm, holding him back. "Just tell me. Please."

Shane didn't shrug the hand away. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because it's important." Ryan placed his other hand on Shane's other arm, gently, staring up at him. "It's important to me."

"Why?"

"It just is!" He tightened his grip as Shane tried to move away, keeping his eyes fixed on the taller man's. "Shane. You can tell me."

"I can't tell you, Ryan. You're still a cop." Shane brushed the shorter man's hands away, rolling his sleeves up as he turned away. "Don't start getting too comfortable here, alright?"

Ryan followed him down the hallway, his heart fluttering. "I'm not too comfortable. But I want you to let me know if you- if you care about me. Even a little."

"Well you can rest easy there, Ryan. Because I don't."

Ryan hopped up the stairs after him, Shane taking them two at a time. "Good. Good, don't. Me neither. Totally."

"Great. Now goodnight." He gestured vaguely at Ryan's room as they passed, not looking back.

"Shane, slow down." Ryan continued on right past his room, keeping his voice hushed. "Look, I- I heard you."

Shane came to a sudden halt, frozen in place. "What did you hear?"

"I heard you and Sara. And McClintock." He swallowed hard, unable to really make out the taller man's face in the dark. "You like me a little. And whatever, that'd be fine, but I- I think I like you a little too, dude. And that's not fine. That's bad. That's so fucking bad."

Shane was silent. "You were listening to my conversation?"

Ryan blinked at the growled sentence. "Yeah. Yeah, a little."

"A little?!" Shane loomed over him, fists clenched by his sides. "I thought this was a no lying, no deceit type thing we had here, Ryan. And eavesdropping on my conversations, especially when I've had a glass of whiskey or two, counts as deceit!"

Ryan tilted his head at this furious whisper, a wide-eyed frown on his face. "Wait, hold on a damn second-"

"No, Ryan. No. You can't act all high and mighty and then start-"

"Start what? Acting like you act?"

Shane linked his hands behind his head, taking a deep breath. "It's too late. It's too late for this shit, Ryan. Go away."

"Don't walk away from me."

Shane paused in walking away, half-turning as he exhaled sharply. "Look, let's cut the bullshit, alright?"

"What bullshit?" demanded Ryan, already closing the space between them.

"Just take off your fucking clothes and come here."

Ryan did just that, pulling his jumper off over his head, chucking it aside. Shane pulled him forwards, leaning in to press a hard kiss to his lips, feeling the arm slip around his neck, Ryan's other hand holding a fistful of Shane's dark blue top. The fierce kiss proved that they were still just as hungry for each other as the first time, mouths fitting together, tongues fighting for dominance. Shane's hand fumbled for his bedroom door, pushing it open, using Ryan to close it behind them. He kept the shorter man pressed against the door as he roughly unbuckled his belt, with such vigor Ryan's hips were pulled forwards, his head hitting back off the door.

"God damnit," muttered Ryan, head still tilted back as his belt was yanked right off. "God, this whole thing would be so much easier if you weren't a good fuck."

Shane's hand slipped behind his neck, keeping Ryan's head tilted back as he trailed slow, hot kisses down his throat. Ryan hooked an arm around the taller man's neck, his mouth falling open as he panted for breath, eyes squeezed shut. He rested his head against Shane's, the thick hair brushing his cheek, his heavy breaths centimeters from Shane's ear. Shane paused, pulling his own top off, barely letting go of it before Ryan had him pushed back on the bed a few feet away. Ryan swiftly straddled his hips, peeling his t-shirt off, Shane's hands instantly grabbing his waist as the taller man sat upright. Ryan settled back down, his arms resting over Shane's shoulders, their parted mouths lingering inches apart. Shane swallowed, hands drifting up to cup Ryan's face, thumbs brushing his stubbled cheeks. Ryan leaned forwards just a bit more, their noses sliding past each other, foreheads resting against each other. And for a moment they simply sat, taking in the feeling of the other being so close, so readily available, so real. It wasn't going to last forever, a fact that the both of them were painfully aware of.

Ryan pushed his hips in a slow circle, the reaction from the other man instantaneous. Shane's hands flew down to grip Ryan's hips, his mouth parting, breaths immediately heavier. Ryan did it again, harder, keeping his lips inches from Shane's, even as the other man leaned forwards to try and kiss him.

"Ryan." The name was a breath, a sigh. "Fucking hell."

Ryan did it once again, hips grinding against Shane's, an arm around his neck for balance. He ran a hand through Shane's hair as the taller man buried his face in Ryan's shoulder, his parted lips pressed against Ryan's collar bone, his breaths still hot, heavy. Shane pulled him even closer, fingers digging into his back, desperate. Ryan pushed him back on the bed, leaning forwards, an elbow either side of his head. Their mouths met, slow, deep, undeniably weighted. 

"Ryan," mumbled Shane, their lips inches apart. "Ryan, we can't- we can't just-"

"Just one more," said Ryan quietly, hands holding Shane's face. "One more night."

Shane swallowed, letting his eyes flutter closed again as Ryan's lips brushed his. "Yeah. Yeah, one. Just one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how would y'all like this to be a two-parter fic? I have the ending for this done (bittersweet) and I've been coming up with another fic in the meantime and I've realized this one and the one I have planned could link together so flawlessly?? it'd be set 5 years after this too, so drama+angst+feelings galore


	13. Keep It Up

It was still dark out, the open window making the thin curtains float like ghosts in the breeze. Shane was dozing, an activity he’d always been quite fond of. It was basically sleeping, but without the commitment. Commitment was a heavy word, especially in his life, in his work. Yet here he was, completely vulnerable, arms around a literal cop. His arch-nemesis, more specifically. Yes, Detective Ryan Bergara, the name that used to strike panic in his heart. _Detective Bergara’s at the door! Bergara’s on the phone! The guys said they saw Bergara around your Perth office!_ The fearsome Detective Bergara gave a sleepy mumble, readjusting the position of his head on Shane’s chest. Shane absent-mindedly ran a hand through the man’s dark hair, letting it come to a rest on the side of Ryan’s face. He was beginning to let a little bit of beard grow, the stubble noticeably darker along his jaw. Shane gave it a little poke.

“You need to shave.”

Ryan opened his eyes, pausing for a moment before suddenly rubbing his chin into Shane’s chest. The taller man let out a yelp, pushing his face away as he tried to stifle his laughs.

“Jesus Christ, Ryan! It’s like goddamn sandpaper!”

Ryan scooched forwards, placing an arm either side of Shane’s head, pushing himself up on his elbows as he smiled down at him. “You need to shave too. But I don’t want you to.”

Shane smiled back at the sleepy voice. “You still like the beard?”

“Mm. I like it.” Ryan never quite noticed how sparkly the other man’s eyes were. They literally twinkled when he was happy. And the little laughter lines were something he would have never expected to be on Shane’s face. “It’s weird seeing you laugh.”

“I laughed a lot around you.”

“I mean genuine laughter,” he said dryly. “Not laughing _at_ me.”

Shane raised his eyebrows at this, linking his hands behind his head. “That is certainly valid. But it’s weird seeing _you_ laugh at all.”

“Well it would be. Unless you know many detectives who laugh openly around their suspects.”

Shane shrugged. “I’ve seen a few. But only because I’m so charming and hilarious.”

“God. You’re the worst.”

“I always loved your little scowl.” Shane mimicked it, pouting like a moody teen. “I hate Shane Madej. He’s so much smarter and wittier than I’ll ever be. And he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my li-”

“Shut up, dude.” Ryan playfully pushed his face aside, the bed shaking slightly with Shane’s laughs. “Shh! The others might hear.”

Shane immediately went quiet, a hand over his mouth. “Shit. I keep forgetting.”

“Duh.” Ryan gave his nose a little flick, hearing the quiet snicker. “Stop forgetting.”

“Ugh, harder, daddy.”

“No! Jesus Christ, Shane!” 

"Hey, hey, here's a question." Shane's voice was hushed, like he was about to reveal the secret of the universe. "What would you do if I shaved my beard into a mustache?"

A silence. "You'd find your ass back in jail. Immediately."

Shane rolled his eyes, quiet for a moment. "You ever feel bad about that?"

"About what? Sending you to prison?" Ryan snorted. "No, actually. You needed a taste of it. And right now, I need a taste of something else."

He lowered himself against Shane to press a soft kiss to his lips, a hand running down Shane's chest, his side, gripping his waist. Shane's own hands drifted up to hold Ryan's face, a thumb eventually slipping around to separate their lips. Ryan pushed himself up a bit, opening his eyes, the confusion clear on his face.

"You don't feel bad at all?" asked Shane distractedly, his eyes still closed.

Ryan frowned, sitting more upright. "Well, no. Not really. You were - _are_ \- a criminal."

Shane gradually propped himself up on his elbows, an eyebrow raised. "So you really thought it was fair that I got thirty years for money-laundering."

"Well, yeah, I guess. That's the average sentence, dude." Ryan turned away, starting to get dressed. This conversation was starting to wander along a knife edge, and he didn't like it. "You knew the risks when you started, right?"

"You don't even feel a little bad?" persisted Shane, now sitting upright, arms over the covers, linked around his knees. The poster-boy for bedhead. "I mean, I was in the same prison that fucking cold-blooded murderers were in, man!"

"As if you didn't fit right in," said Ryan flippantly. "I heard you settled down very nicely indeed. And don't think for a second that I didn't notice a few of your old employees were still suspiciously loyal to you."

Shane snorted. "Oh, you thought prison would be the end of me, hm? Yeah, I ran some business from in there. Why the hell wouldn't I?"

"I- What are you looking for here, Shane?" Ryan turned to face him, finishing doing up his belt. "For me to say sorry for doing my job or some shit?"

"If I had stayed in there," said Shane with forced calm. "I would've been fucking sixty by the time I got out. I want you to acknowledge that it wasn't fair."

Ryan shook his head in disbelief, hands on his hips. "You're serious. You're serious right now."

"Yeah. I am." Shane shrugged, the passive-aggressive manner overwhelming. "Just admit that it was a bit too much. That you went too far."

"That _I_ went too far? That I went _too far?!"_ Ryan was speechless for a few long seconds, mouth hanging open. "I didn't decide your fucking sentence, Shane! It's not my fucking fault you didn't get Horsley to skip into court and whisk you away for the millionth time that year. Back to the safety of your stolen fortune."

Shane gave a sharp laugh. "Listen, Ryan. Those people that you've heard of, the people you've _met_ , they're not my friends. They're goddamn business associates. They don't do anything for me unless they get something in return. And-"

"Just like you, hm?" Ryan pulled his t-shirt on, a harsh exhale accompanying the gesture. "As if you've ever been generous a day in your life."

"You're such a whiny little bitch, you know that?" Shane was half-dressed himself by now, shrugging his navy shirt on over his shoulders as he glowered at the man across the bed from him. "But you know, you almost had me, Ryan. You almost had me fooled."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time. But oh, wait! I can't mention that!" Ryan spread his arms, a mock-helpless gesture. "I'm not _allowed_ mention the time I made you face the consequences of your actions!" He was shouting by the end of the sentence, pointing a vehement finger at the taller man. "You did it to yourself, Shane! Don't start dragging this shit back up now!"

"Lower your fucking voice, you idiot," snapped Shane, as the shorter man stormed around the bed, towards the door. "Hey, we're not done."

"Oh, yes we are." Ryan half-turned to glare at him, the taller man abandoning finishing his shirt buttons as he crossed the space towards him. "We're done. And I mean _done_ , Shane. Alright?"

"Oh, done? Like, _done_ done?"

"Done!" repeated Ryan, the word accompanied with a firm cut of his hand. "I said only one more night, and I meant it."

Shane gave a scoff of disbelief, hands on his hips. "Oh, look at you, Ryan. So honorable, but only when it suits you."

"I'm surprised you even know the word."

"Go on, then," said Shane icily, folding his arms across his chest. "Get out."

Ryan thought about continuing the argument. It was his natural reaction when it came to Shane, really. Shane says something, Ryan has to say something back. Sometimes it was simply banter, especially recently. But for the majority of their time knowing each other, it was fearsome arguments. Yet for once, for the first time ever, Ryan reigned it in. He turned away with a sharp sigh, yanking open the door, almost slamming it behind him before remembering they were supposed to be being quiet. He blinked as he saw the vague shape of his jumper still lying in the dark hallway, a few feet away. He hurried to pick it up, to get rid of the evidence, so panicked by the potential disaster of Helen finding out he'd slept with Shane again that he didn't even hear the latter opening the door quietly behind him.

"And one more thing," said Shane in a harsh whisper, pointing a finger in the wide-eyed face of Ryan. "I hope you realize that even though I bailed on you in the middle of nowhere, you're not treating me quite nicely either. Alright?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" hissed Ryan, his jumper bundled in his arms.

"You're using me just to fuck, and I get that!" replied Shane, raising his hands to his shoulders as he whispered the angry words. "But if you want to treat this just like a fuck-buddy type thing, then you can get screwed if you think you can start springing domestics on me!"

"Domestics?!"

" _Domestics_ , Ryan!" He pointed back into the bedroom, the scene of the crime. "If we're gonna start fucking on the down-low, you are absolutely, one-hundred percent _not allowed_ to do shit like this! Acting like you have any right to-"

"Not allowed?" interrupted Ryan, his voice rising slightly. "Not allowed?! Did you just tell me I'm not allowed to do something?"

"Look, Ryan. I'll fuck you, okay? I really have no problem with that side of things." He glared down at him, listing off the following on his fingers. "But the arguing? The nagging? The bringing up old beef? You can forget it!"

" _You_ brought up the old beef!" Ryan leaned forwards, eyes narrowed up at him as he spoke through gritted teeth. "And I already have forgotten it. I said we're done."

"Oh, and you think you're gonna be able to keep that up?"

Ryan blinked at this, straightening back up. "Excuse me?"

"I said," repeated Shane, hands resting on his hips. "You won't be able to keep that up. Because as has already been proven, you can't help yourself."

Ryan was silent for a moment before raising a finger, giving a quiet laugh. It wasn't a happy laugh. It was a warning one, a dangerous one, the sort of laugh that says _I'm only laughing to occupy my mouth because otherwise my teeth would be in your throat_. "You take that back, you dick."

"Nah, I'd like you to keep it." Shane stepped back into his room, half-closing the door, his head still poking out. "Don't dirty yourself when you come crawling back to me, alright? I like you pretty." 

Ryan stood in stunned silence for a long moment after the door shut, staring at it. "Son of a _bitch_."

He carried on down towards his own room, almost hyperventilating he was so mad. _I like you pretty_. God, the demeaning manner of the sentence had him flustered with anger, his teeth gritted hard as he went to throw his jumper onto the bed. He threw it a bit harder than necessary, firing it right over the bed and against the wall. He took a minute to try and relax, hands on his hips, eyes closed. _I like you pretty_. Well. Well then he'd just have to use that fact to his advantage, wouldn't he?

* * *

It was the dining room again, the unofficial board room for the situation at hand. In the background, smooth jazz from Horsley's record player. She really did seem to like that record player. Love it, even. Really, it was the only thing in the world she truly loved. Record players can't talk back. The early morning sun filtered through the low mist outside, which rolled on for miles. Shane stood looking upon this view, his back to the room, a hand in his pocket, the other holding a mug of coffee. He hadn't turned around since Ryan had come into the room, intent on showing his disapproval of Ryan's earlier behavior. It was time for a bit of silent treatment, he'd decided. Shane closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. _God, it's just like being in the damn car again_.

"Hey, man." Sara wandered up beside him, giving him a playful poke in the side. "You're really nailing the whole super-villain thing."

"Mm." He took a sip of his coffee, swallowing it. "I'm mad, Sara. Real mad."

"Oh?" She frowned up at him. "I thought you'd be in a good mood, if you and Ryan got up to the activities I assume you did."

"We did. It backfired." He let out a sharp sigh, eyes narrowing. "I'm done with the little bastard."

Sara grinned. "So your honeymoon phase barely lasted twenty-four hours, hm?"

"You should've heard him. God, it was infuriating." Shane took another angry sip of coffee, glowering out the window. "Acting the big man, getting his feathers all puffed up. I was this close to throwing hands, Sara. _This close_."

"That is very close," she nodded, looking at the tiny gap between his thumb and index finger of his raised hand. "You guys think you'll be okay by yourselves here today, then?"

"The house is giant," he replied flatly. "We probably won't even see each other. Hopefully."

"I can stay, if you _do_ think things will take a, um, a turn for the worst?" She raised an eyebrow. "What would you currently constitute as a turn for the worst?"

"I feel like giving him a slap," said Shane simply. "He needs one. And I'm not talking about a little tap. I'm talking that Rihanna-Michael Cera slap from that movie."

"Don't fight him, Shane," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "He'd crush you."

"Not true!" he replied indignantly. "We've fought before. A few times."

"Yeah? And how many did you win?" she asked dryly.

He paused, trying to think of a time he had come out on top. Most of their scuffles had ended with Shane's face pressed to a desk, or the floor, or concrete, his arm twisted painfully behind his back, Ryan's hand on the back of his neck to keep him pinned as they shouted at each other. He was quiet for a minute.

"One time I hit him across the face with a ledger," he finally said. "I won that one."

"Hope we're all rested and well this morning!" came McClintock's booming voice as he sat down, the movement accompanied with his hands slapping down on the table. As always. "Because today's the day, boys and girls!"

Shane half-turned at the voice, immediately making eye contact with the one person he was attempting not to even acknowledge the existence of. Ryan looked away with a disdainful raise of his eyebrow, chin resting on his hand. _Oh_. Shane lowered his mug, mouth opening slightly at the gesture, at the sign that Ryan was going to do exactly what he was planning on doing. _Oh, it's on_. The chatter grew louder as people sat down. Shane moved in silence, not taking his eyes from Ryan's face as he took the seat directly across from him. Ryan turned his head back slightly, giving him a sidelong look. It was met with a disinterested, slow blink from Shane as he turned his head to look at Horsley, seated at the top of the table. It was a subtle game of gestures, a game of 'who could hurt the other more without saying a single word'. And Shane was a master at it.

"Sara will bring Andrew, Steven, and McClintock to the docks," said Horsley, cutting straight to the chase. "She'll wait there to collect them. McClintock will ask around - _casually_ , might I add - about Goldsworth. Andrew and Steven will be his 'bodyguards'. We're all good with that, yes?" A general nod. Andrew and Steven looked particularly excited in their matching suits. "Helen and I will head into town, to one of Shane's old offices. Start clearing it out, send an implication that Shane's out of the picture."

"I really feel like I could help with that," said Ryan, trying not to sound too eager to escape the house. "I mean, if _I'm_ spotted clearing Shane's stuff, people will definitely think he's gone, right?"

"Look, what we're trying to imply is that you killed Shane," said Horsley with a vague wave of her hand. "And that won't be believable if you're still wandering around, doing your job after literally killing a man."

"I mean, what do you think this is, Ryan?" said Shane dryly. "America?"

This elicited a quiet laugh from Ryan, who quickly cut it off, his smile falling flat as he looked away. People were already standing up to leave, getting prepared, all but Shane and Ryan. They shared a dark look, both equally moody. This was going to be an uncomfortable couple of hours.

"I have three rules," said Horsley, appearing at Shane's shoulder as she shrugged her long coat on. "Don't break the record player. Don't burn the house down. Don't even look at my room. These are non-debatable. I'll see you in a few hours."

A hurried goodbye as everyone rushed to get this all over with as soon as possible. Sara gave Shane a warning look as she closed the door behind the group, Helen doing the exact same to Ryan. Then they were gone. And it was just Shane, Ryan, and Nina Simone crooning from the record player. Ryan didn't get up to leave, picking up the nearest newspaper, flipping it open. For a few minutes, it was a deathly silence. Ryan kept his eyes on the paper as he heard Shane's chair scrape back, saw the hand take the mug from the table, heard the footsteps wander away. But even though Ryan had hoped the footsteps would go right out the door, they didn't. Shane circled the table, sauntering to a halt right beside him. Ryan spared him a haughty glance. The taller man smiled lazily at him. Ryan gave the paper a slight shake to stop the top of the pages from folding over, going back to the article he was reading.

“Well, Ryan.” Shane's voice was low, relaxed. “It’s just you and me.”

Ryan didn’t look up, raising an eyebrow in vague acknowledgement. “Mm.”

A pause. “You remember what happened the last time you tried to play a game like this? It seems a long time ago now, doesn’t it? Just me, and you, and a dark motel room.”

“Oh, you mean when you cracked?” Ryan finally set the paper down, taking off his glasses as he looked up at him. “Yeah, I do remember.”

Shane gave a half-hearted laugh, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, you were the one who resorted to sleeping in the car because you knew you couldn’t help yourself.”

Ryan shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. But I’m perfectly fine now. So if that’s everything.”

Shane narrowed his eyes slightly. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah, I’m serious.” Ryan used his glasses to gesture at himself as he spoke. “You aren’t getting any of this until you say sorry for being such an asshole this morning.”

Shane gritted his teeth. “Right.”

“Right. So, any apologies you want to get off your chest?”

A sharp laugh. “No. No, hell no. And you might be all smug about it right now, Ryan, but you’re gonna start to crumble soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

Ryan shrugged, a gesture of blatant disinterest. “Sure. Do your worst, big guy.”

Shane watched with narrowed eyes as the other man spun his chair away to lean over the paper on the table, slipping his glasses back on as he settled down. “You don’t even need your glasses to read, Ryan. Stop being pretentious.”

“I feel like being pretentious,” replied Ryan light-heartedly. “Because I can see how annoyed you’re getting. Dare I say, infuriated?”

“You know, I’m usually the dominant one in relationships, Ryan.” Shane moved to stand a bit closer, looking down his nose at the other man. “I’m good at it. I know I’m good at it. And you’re screwing with the system here, pal.”

“Maybe I just don’t want you getting too comfortable.”

“Oh, you’ve always liked keeping me on edge, haven’t you?”

“Mm. Yeah, I have.” Ryan blinked at him, a slightly bitchy gesture. “That everything?”

Shane closed his eyes, sighing heavily. “God, you’re the worst.”

Ryan ignored him, his chin resting in his hand as he continued reading the paper. Goldsworth was mentioned in it, once or twice. Never anything but a background character in other devious plots, but consistent. The backbone of a broad section of the criminal underworld. And it would probably be good if Ryan had a basic grip on the guy’s character.

“Oops.” Shane placed his cup of coffee down forcefully before tipping it over, the contents splashing across the paper, making Ryan rear back with a loud curse. “My hand slipped.”

“Jesus Christ, Shane!” He got to his feet to avoid the hot coffee starting to drip off the edge of the table, rounding on the taller man. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Shane jabbed a hard finger into the shorter man’s chest. “You’re the one getting entertainment out of fucking tormenting me. And it’s not the first time, either!”

“So you try to scald me?!”

“A warning, Ryan.”

“What warning? If I continue not letting you have sex with me, you’ll cause me bodily harm?”

Shane paused. “Well, no. That doesn’t sound good. I didn’t mean that at all. I- Oops.”

Ryan shoved him aside with a frustrated sigh, storming towards the door. “If you want to fuck me, all you need are two little words. I’m sorry. That’s all you need to say.” He paused in the doorway, hands on his hips as he turned back to face him. “And if you say them, I’ll make it worth your while. That's a promise.”

Shane took a deep breath, closing his mouth, straightening up. “Okay. Okay, fine.”

Ryan waited, eyebrows raised. “So you’re sorry?”

“Oh, definitely not.” Shane began wandering towards him, his voice nonchalant. “Because really, it’s you who should be apologizing. As I said this morning.”

Ryan snorted. “Yeah, bye.”

“There’s nothing like make-up sex, Ryan,” he continued, almost dreamily. “God, it’s just so passionate, isn’t it? So- So hot and heavy. Mm. That sound good?”

Ryan swallowed, closing his mouth. “You just don’t know when to back down, do you?”

“Never have. And neither have you.” Shane leaned against the door frame, an arm resting against it as he looked down at the shorter man. “It’s what makes us so undeniably compatible, don’t you think?”

Ryan gave him a bitterly amused look. “I wouldn’t go that far. There’s still a pretty large piece of me that genuinely dislikes you.”

“Ryan, stop. You know that type of talk gets me going.”

The shorter man turned away with a dramatic roll of his eyes, moving off down the corridor. Shane grinned, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back against the door frame.

“It’s just me and you for the next couple of hours, Ry!” he called, raising an eyebrow. “So much could happen! If you’d just let it!”

Ryan flipped him off over his shoulder as he turned the far corner, heading towards the kitchen. And Shane stayed where he was, distractedly biting on his lip as he wondered if he’d ever met someone who drove him so downright insane as Ryan did.

* * *

An hour or so had passed. Ryan had occupied himself in the kitchen; made a sandwich, ate it, made a coffee, drank it. He checked his phone for anything from TJ and Kelsey; nothing. The Tromps were in the papers, sans Mark. God, this whole thing had gotten out of control astoundingly fast. Ryan wandered the corridors as he thought, his footsteps echoing. The situation at hand wasn't actually out of control, but more out of _his_ control. Which to him, was the same thing. It was almost as if he'd passed the reigns to Shane, passed leadership to him. But no, Horsley was clearly in charge. Shane was the baby of his little gang; Norris was in her forties, Horsley and McClintock both in their late fifties. Hearing McClintock talking so fondly about Shane had been odd, unusual. And Shane had actually blushed, furiously. And Ryan realized his thoughts had once again reverted to Shane Madej. 

He sighed heavily to himself, wandering along the same corridor he'd explored the night beforehand. When he'd heard Shane talk about certain feelings. He must've been drunk or something, Ryan was certain of it. Shane didn't have feelings. He was cool, and calculated, and careful. And a general pain in the neck. Ryan heard the low music from a radio further down the corridor, but instead of turning around like he should have, he kept going.

Shane was lounging across a dark couch, one leg propped up on it, the other still on the floor. He had one hand holding up a book, the other resting behind his head. The exact same pose as when Ryan had visited him in jail that day, long ago. Ryan stood in the doorway, looking at him. The book was lowered slightly, Shane's eyes appearing over the top of it. 

"Giving up so soon?" asked Shane dryly. "Or should I say 'giving in'?"

Ryan folded his arms across his chest. "Mm. You're the one hiding from me."

"Hiding?"

"This room isn't exactly central."

Shane let the book fall onto his chest, a hand still holding it open. "Then what are you doing here?"

Ryan moved to the small table of alcohol in the corner, the gins and whiskeys and rums that Sara, Shane and McClintock had visited last night. He picked up a bottle, watching the golden liquid slide around inside.

"They won't be back for another couple of hours, right?" said Ryan casually.

Shane raised an eyebrow. "Give or take."

Ryan placed two glasses down, pouring two stiff drinks. He turned to face Shane, who was watching him closely. So closely it made Ryan feel like he was being mentally undressed. He probably was.

"Let's turn this difficulty level up a notch, shall we?" said Ryan coolly, a drink in each hand.

Shane was quiet for a moment before putting out a hand for one of the drinks. "Mm. You've tempted me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler alert for the end but here it is
> 
> https://youtu.be/dsWDUvuF0Xc
> 
> as per usual, in song form....


	14. Gopher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a sexy chapter, with some plot inbetween

Ryan’s teeth grazed his skin again, making him close his eyes, bite down on his lip. “Almost there.” Shane could feel the other man's breath hot against his stomach, even through the shirt. “Close. So close.”

The last button finally fell open, Ryan sitting back with a satisfied smile, a hand sliding off Shane’s leg to pick up his glass again. “Easy.”

Shane took a sip of his own drink, very much liking the image of Ryan kneeling between his legs. “Mm. Your turn.”

“Right. Truth or dare.”

A pensive hum. “Truth.”

“Alright.” Ryan thought for a long moment, the alcohol making his mind slower than usual. “What do you find sexiest about me?”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Ryan leaned forwards between the other man’s legs, head tilted up, Shane’s mouth inches from his. “Why do you think I’m hot?”

Shane half-smiled at this. “Be more specific. We don’t have all day.”

Ryan distractedly traced a finger down Shane’s chest, his stomach. “Okay. When was the first time you noticed I was hot?”

Shane was quiet for a long moment. “The first night at that motel. The next morning you’d gone for a workout, and when you came back, you were still a bit sweaty. But in a hot way.” Shane slipped a hand around the back of Ryan’s neck, fingers running up through his hair. “Yeah, your shirt was basically stuck to you, and just… It was a red flag at the time.”

Ryan let his eyes linger on the other man’s mouth for a few long seconds, before his gaze flickered back up to meet Shane’s. “Your turn.”

“Okay. Okay, truth or dare.”

Ryan hesitated; truth was more intimidating, but Shane had a talent for creating dares that were really pushing his self-control. Such as the last one. Because really, who the hell comes up with ‘open my shirt with your teeth’ as a dare?

“…Truth.”

“Mmm.” Shane sat back, elbows resting on the back of the couch either side of him. “Alright. When was the last time you were so turned on you couldn’t stand it?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “I think we both know the answer.”

“Say it anyway.”

“The motel.”

Shane whistled through his teeth, turning his head aside. “God. The motel.”

“I’m pretty sure I was bordering on physical pain I was so turned on.”

“Why?” Shane grinned at the warning look. “Why were you so into it? I didn’t actually do anything to turn you on.”

Ryan looked away for a long moment. “It was just… I don’t know. It was just the fact that you were there. That I wanted you, and you wanted me, and it was just us, and no one else. I mean, there was nothing else to think about apart from you.” He had an arm resting on Shane’s leg, head resting on the arm, his other hand distractedly slipping under Shane’s open shirt. “There was nothing else to do.”

“Apart from me.”

Ryan smiled at this. “Apart from you.”

Shane let out a quiet breath, highly aware of the hand tracing light patterns against his skin. “Your turn.”

“Mm. Truth or-”

“Dare.”

Ryan looked up at this decisiveness, the hand pausing in its tracing. “You’re setting yourself up to lose this thing, Shane.”

“I said dare,” replied Shane quietly, not taking his eyes from the other man’s.

Ryan didn’t respond for a moment as he thought. Then he pushed himself to his feet, swiftly straddling the taller man on the couch, picking up his half-empty glass and taking a sip.

“I dare you-” He pulled his shirt off, almost able to hear Shane’s pulse pick up at the move. “-not to touch me.”

Shane swallowed hard, keeping his eyes fixed on Ryan’s face. “This isn’t fair.”

“No, the rule was that a dare couldn’t include touching,” replied Ryan coolly. “This one explicitly excludes touching. So it’s fair.” He settled down more firmly across Shane’s hips, feeling the taller man readjust his seating under him. “But if you feel like it’s too much, you can always take a shot. Which I get to pour.”

Shane took a deep breath at the thought of another inhumanely-sized shot, pretty certain he’d probably chuck it right back up if he did try one. “Fine.”

“Oh, cheer up, big guy.” Ryan smiled to himself as he slipped a hand around the back of Shane’s neck, thumb brushing his cheek. “You can always tap-out completely and say sorry.”

“Bite me.”

Ryan grinned at the fierceness behind the words, pushing forwards against Shane, using his body to pin him back against the couch. “Then last for five minutes-”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Two and a half,” said Shane heatedly, already feeling angry at the upcoming frustration. “Final say.”

“Okay,” shrugged Ryan, letting his thumb brush along Shane’s bearded cheek again, as if he was petting a puppy, and not a furious-looking thirty-year-old man. “That still gives me a minute and a half to spare.”

“Ha. Funny.”

Ryan placed a hand on the back of the sofa over Shane’s shoulder, the other softly cupping his face. He pushed his hips down and forwards, watching the flicker of what could easily have been taken as pain flash across Shane’s face. His shuddered gasp was just loud enough for Ryan to hear, leading the way for a few heavy breaths. Yet when he opened his eyes, they were still fixed on Ryan’s.

“You’re gonna try and fuck an apology out of me?” asked Shane quietly, teeth gritted.

“I don’t think I’ll need to go that  _far_ ,” replied Ryan, driving his hips down again with the last word, keeping his face close to Shane’s as the taller man stiffened under him, hands scrambling to hold the fabric of the sofa, eyes squeezing shut. “Do you?”

Shane didn’t reply for a moment, letting out a bated breath before he answered. “Probably not.” His shoulders were visibly tense, raised slightly. “But we’ll see.”

Ryan didn’t hesitate in grinding down again, Shane’s head falling forwards onto his shoulder with a subdued moan, his open mouth pressed against the collarbone below. His hands were holding the sofa in a white-knuckled grip, the fabric bunched up in his fists. Ryan did it again, hard and slow, running his hands up through Shane’s hair, Shane’s trembling breaths hot against his skin.

“If you think this is gonna get me to-” Shane’s own sharp gasp cut him off, burying his face further into Ryan’s shoulder, mouth hanging open as he sucked in the deep breath. “… _God_. Fuck, what was I saying?”

“You were telling me how sorry you are for being a complete dick this morning.” Ryan felt the teeth closing on his skin as he moved his hips in a slow circle, fingers still tangled in Shane’s hair. “I believe.”

Shane’s hands moved to grip Ryan’s arms, desperately tight. “I-”

“No touching,” said Ryan quietly, pulling Shane’s head back by his hair, looking down his nose at him. The taller man’s eyes opened slightly, almost dreamily. “I was pretty clear about that.”

The hands reluctantly moved back to the sofa, shaking ever so slightly. Shane swallowed hard, both yearning for and dreading the next movement. He closed his eyes as Ryan’s lips came together against his jaw, tongue just brushing his skin.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” The words were inhaled as Shane readjusted himself, feeling Ryan’s hips sliding against his as he did so. “Fuck. Just pull one or two of my teeth out, would you?”

“What? You don’t like  _this_?”

Shane practically fell forwards against Ryan’s body at the grinding movement, his hands clawing his back, his open mouth pressing against Ryan’s neck, just dying to taste him. “Oh fuck. I like it. I like it.”

“I said no touching. It's in the rules.”

“God, Ryan,  _please_.” His heart was palpating in his chest, his fingers frozen in their grip of Ryan’s back, in apprehension of the next two seconds of torture in the form of Ryan’s hips. “Please. Please let me- Let me touch you.”

“Tell me you're sorry,” said Ryan lightly.

“No.” A loud moan as Ryan pushed his hips forwards with aggressive intensity, his chin resting on Ryan’s shoulder, mouth grazing up his neck. “Fuck. Fuck. Ryan. I can’t-”

“Tell me,” persisted Ryan, pulling Shane’s head back again, glaring at him. “Just spit it out, Shane!”

“Fuck you.” Shane had two seconds to snarl this out before he was back clawing at Ryan’s body, each heavy breath tinged with desperate whines. He locked his arms firmly around Ryan, one over the shoulder opposite to where Shane’s face was once again buried, one around his waist, fingers digging in. “Shit. Shit, this- This can’t be fucking legal.”

“Tell me that you're-”

“Oh God.” Shane had his eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted painfully hard, his head resting on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan didn't seem to feel Shane's fingers digging into him, dragging down his back. “This isn’t- This isn’t fair. You’re basically fucking me, for God’s-”

Ryan grinded his hips forwards again, mouth open to speak. But before he could say anything, Shane suddenly flipped them, pushing Ryan off to the side, landing on top, pinning him down. He kept his face hidden, buried in Ryan's shoulder, but Ryan could feel the hot breaths against his neck. Shane's hands moved to grip the arm of the sofa above Ryan's head, white-knuckled. He swallowed. 

"You lose," said Ryan quietly. "Which means a shot, or you say sorry."

"Ryan."

"Your choice!"

Shane turned his head so that his mouth was brushing Ryan's neck as he spoke, feeling Ryan's fingers tightening in his hair. "I'm not saying sorry, you little dick."

Ryan grinned at this, pushing himself upright, legs still hooked around Shane's hips. "Alright. Shot it is." He reached around the other man, adding a little bit more whiskey to Shane's glass. Just a little bit. He didn't want him to die, after all. "Bottoms up."

Shane took the glass, taking a deep breath before downing it, eyes squeezed shut. Ryan laughed as the glass was promptly tossed aside, Shane coughing as the liquid burned down his throat. 

"Jesus." Shane sat back on his knees for a moment, hands over his face. "God, I've decided I hate whiskey."

"No, you just hate losing," replied Ryan with a bright smile, earning a dark look. 

Shane glowered down at him. "Truth or dare."

Ryan was quiet for a moment, propped up on his elbows. "Hm. Dare."

Shane's hand landed on his chest, pushing him flat on the couch, the taller man swiftly following. He pulled Ryan's head aside, whispering the words against his neck.

"Stay quiet. Or you lose."

Ryan gritted his teeth as Shane pushed a hard kiss under his jaw, forcing his head back, Ryan's hands quickly moving to grasp the arm of the sofa behind him. Shane's hands moved to slide over his, holding them in place as he continued running kisses along Ryan's throat, harsh ones, hungry ones. He could feel Ryan's heavy breaths against his ear, but not a single moan. Yet. He could feel the subdued moans, however; Ryan's body arching up off the sofa, firm against Shane's, his head pushed back into the cushions. The shorter man tried to move his hands from the arm of the sofa, Shane's grip tightening over them, holding them in place. _No. No, it's my turn._

* * *

"So you also know them?"

"The Tromps? Yes." Horsley placed down another box of illegal accounts, rubbing her aching back as she straightened up. "There's circles when it comes to these sorts of activities, detective. Ones that law enforcement seem to find difficult to tell apart." She went on without prompt, going back for another box. "There's the inner circle. Your Shanes, your Goldsworths, your Capones. The big shots, the leaders of their respective groups. Then there's the second circle, which would me the likes of me, of Norris, of McClintock; not strictly criminals, but not innocent either. We turn a blind eye, we maybe lend a helping hand when required, but nothing that could directly damage us. Then there's the outer circle, which would be mainly clients. Families in desperate trouble, maybe some lower-level criminals, all needing aid that the law cannot acquire for them. Which is what the Tromps are."

"But why did the Tromps need help?" Helen emptied another pile of accounts into the trolley waiting to be wheeled out to the van. "Ryan thought Shane was helping them."

"He was. With Goldsworth." Horsley spoke with a sense of emotional detachment to the events that only a lawyer could possess. "The Tromps ran a farm. A drought had hit. They turned to Goldsworth for a large loan, to which he agreed. Then they were directed to Shane, who'd help cover the tracks of this suspicious amount of money."

"Because they were together at the time, weren't they?" Helen raised an eyebrow. "Shane and Goldsworth?"

"Yes. But it wasn't emotional, at least not on Shane's part." Horsley shrugged. "Business is business. Goldsworth's business was getting threateningly big, and Shane needed to either take control of it or shut it down. And you don't just shut someone like Goldsworth down." Another shrug. "So Shane took control of it. Think Margaery Tyrell and Joffrey, if you watch."

Helen nodded understandingly. "I see."

"But then Shane found himself in prison, and the Tromps started to panic, and they couldn't pay Goldsworth back, and Goldsworth got mad, so they ran."

"What would he have done?" asked Helen, eyebrows raised. "What might he do?"

Horsley picked up a heavy ledger, giving it a long look. "He's unstable. Violent. Even other criminals aren't too eager to work with him. I've never spoken to him in my life, but I can safely assume he would've immediately killed them. And not painlessly." She chucked the ledger into an empty box. "What none of us expected was for Shane to appear again. At least not so soon." Another ledger dropped into the box. "Did you ever check the record of Shane's visitors in prison?"

Helen paused. "Uh, no. We didn't think to. Since he didn't exactly escape directly from prison."

"You should." Horsley spared her a wry smile. "The name 'Tromp' might make an appearance here and there."

Helen was quiet as she realized that Shane's escape must have been fifty percent luck, fifty percent meticulous planning, and not the spontaneous dash for freedom they'd all assumed. "He's smart, isn't he?"

Horsley nodded. "Cunning, crafty, sly, people call him all sorts. But at the end of the day, yes. He's smart." She folded up the cardboard flaps on the now-full box. "Just as much as your partner."

Helen laughed. "Oh, Ryan's smart, but he's emotional. If he gets angry, or sad, or hyper, it'll just take over."

"So _you're_ the smart one."

"Oh, no. No, I'm just the grounded one." She smiled. "The impulse control, kinda."

Horsley passed her the box, Helen placing it among the others on the trolley. "I think he could be good for him."

Helen gave her a look, picking up another empty box to be filled with Shane's old accounts. "What?"

"Shane has had a lot of instability in his life," said Horsley, almost sadly. Almost empathetic. "Which is something all criminals have. But he came from America alone. I never asked. But he had a lot of sadness in his eyes." She gave a small smile, her face suddenly appearing quite motherly. "He's good at hiding it, but he's surprisingly vulnerable. Emotional. I think he needs someone like Ryan."

Helen was quiet. "But Ryan's a cop."

"I know," said Horsley with a sigh, opening up another empty box to be filled. "Life is never fair, is it?"

* * *

They were a few glasses in. The whiskey was still going down smooth; as usual, Horsley had the best of the best. The radio was still playing, despite where it lay on the floor; low and lilting, a little crackle here and there. Occasionally, the sound of a page turning as Shane continued reading. The book was resting on Ryan's head, where he'd flopped down onto the couch, half-asleep on Shane's lap. 

"So wait." Ryan rolled back over to face the ceiling, hearing the sigh from Shane as he was forced to move his book again. "Jacoba _told_ you they were going on the run?"

"Yes. She came into the prison and told me exactly how it was gonna go down." Shane shrugged. "A large chunk of it was based on luck, on me getting out on time. And also trust. As I told you before, a lot of my business depends on trust."

"Yeah. You did say that." Ryan hummed pensively, frowning at the ceiling. "But-"

"Stop talking to me, Ryan. I'm still mad at you."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "God. You're _still_ in a mood?"

They'd fucked. Of course they'd fucked. Despite acting as if either of them wanted to resist. First on the sofa, then on the table, where the radio had been upended. Then against the wall, back on the table, anywhere, everywhere, just pure desperation, their open mouths pressed together in an almost-kiss, their vigorous movements making it too hard to complete the gesture. They hadn't even removed all their clothing; even now Ryan just lay in his unbuttoned jeans, Shane in his trousers and open shirt, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"You're not?" Shane moved the book aside so that he could see Ryan's face fully. "You were in such a bitch of a mood only two hours ago, man."

"Look, I don't stay mad for long. I just don't." Ryan readjusted his position, lying on his side, hands under his head as a makeshift pillow. "I'm not like you."

Shane arched an eyebrow. "Which means?"

"You hold grudges. As you told me before. As I've _seen_."

"Yeah, I do." He moved the book back, lying it directly on Ryan's face. "So zip it."

"Oh come on." Ryan pushed himself up onto his knees, a mock-pout on his face. "The others will be back in, like, an hour or so. Let's just have _fun_."

Shane didn't even look at him, reading his book like a snooty lord reading a scroll. "Nope. No fun. Until you say sorry."

"I didn't decide your sentence!" said Ryan in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "Why don't you get that?"

"Because there's no one else here to blame, Ryan!" Shane smiled as he felt the other man climb onto him, sit astride him, the book still stubbornly separating their faces. He wanted to still be angry, but the alcohol was making it a bit difficult. "I see your plan here, detective. Get me drunk, have your way with me, catch me off guard. So sneaky."

Ryan took the book from Shane's hand, laying it on the small table beside them, which also held their two glasses. Both of which were empty. "What can I do to make you _not_ mad?"

Shane raised an eyebrow. "You could give me back my book."

Ryan sat back, shoulders slumped. "C'mon, dude. Don't make me grovel."

"I _want_ you to grovel," replied Shane with a raised eyebrow, sitting back, arms resting on the back of the sofa either side. "I want you to say 'Shane, I'm sorry for being a dick this morning and I won't do it again'."

Ryan sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. "Shane I'm sorry for being a dick this morning and I won't do it again but I'm only saying this so you stop being a total asshole."

"You- Ryan!" Shane brought his hands back from the other man, a scowl on his face. "You have to mean it!"

"You didn't tell me I had to mean it!" He wrapped his arms around the other man's head, hearing the muffled protests as he drew him in against his chest. "I'm sorry. There, I said it. _And_ I meant it."

Shane looked up at him, a small smile on his face. "See? It wasn't that hard, was it?"

"I almost gagged just trying to say it." Ryan let himself sit back down, relaxing at the feeling of Shane's hands slipping up along his waist. "Jesus. I can't believe I'm groveling for sex from _you_. My past self would shoot me in the face."

"God. Same." Shane closed his eyes as the shorter man leaned forwards to press a slow kiss to his lips, his hands tightening on Ryan's waist.Their mouths were still hot from the previous friction they'd been through.  _This is nice_ , he thought. _I like this_.

Ryan suddenly broke off, sitting back, eyes still shut. "Okay, look, you can't tell Helen I told you this."

Shane blinked, eyebrows raised. "Uh oh."

"No, no, it's not uh oh." He hesitated, glancing away, and back again. "I actually  _did_ try to get it cut a bit. Your sentence.”

Shane blinked again, straightening up. “What?”

“I _did_ think it was unfair. Which is something I, as a cop, am not allowed to really think.” Ryan shrugged, knowing full well it was the alcohol spilling these secrets. “I thought thirty years was excessive. I tried to get it cut to fourteen, which is the minimum. But then the prosecution pointed out all the other shit you did - the tax evasion, the identity theft, the bribery, the embezzlement - and the fuck am I supposed to say back to that?”

Shane went quiet. “I don’t know. I didn’t know you even did that.” _Or why you did that._

“Did you know that with all that other stuff you did, they could’ve easily given life?” Ryan counted them on his fingers. “Twenty years for embezzlement, twenty for laundering, ten for the bribery, four for the identity thefts, five for the tax evasion. I mean, c’mon, dude. You’re lucky you were only gonna get thirty years.”

Shane had gone pale, his eyes wide. “I didn’t know.”

“So you never knew the risks of what you were doing?”

“I never had to think about the chance of getting caught!” he replied earnestly. “Until you showed up.”

Ryan was quiet for a long moment, biting on his lip. “Where are you gonna go?”

Shane looked up at this, pausing in swirling his drink. “After this?”

“Yeah.”

He hesitated, giving a small shrug. “Probably home. Chicago.”

Ryan nodded, almost understanding. “You miss it?”

“You don’t?”

Ryan took a sip of his drink, swallowing. “Sometimes. I just miss my dogs.”

Shane smiled. “You have dogs?”

“Yeah. Two. They live with my mom and dad.” 

“I, uh, I used to have a parrot,” said Shane almost hesitantly. Why reveal his personal life to this man, of all people? “But it died one year, during the winter, and Chicago winters are pretty harsh. So I couldn’t bury him. So I just kept him frozen in my freezer until the spring came and brought the thaw.”

Ryan sat in silence for a moment. “So how many months was that?”

A pensive silence. “Twenty-four?”

“ _Twenty_ \- That’s two years!” Ryan’s eyes were wide as he raised a hand to cover his smile. “That’s two whole years, you weirdo!”

“I forgot about him!”

“You’re gonna go home and visit his little parrot grave.”

“Lay a bunch of tiny flowers on it.” Shane raised an eyebrow, smiling at the other man's smile. "I don’t know why you’re laughing. It was a terrible time in my life."

"Which is why I'm laughing."

"Oh, fuck you."

The footsteps ended their little moment. Ryan sprang off the couch, scrambling for his shirt, terrified of what Helen would think if she caught him half-naked on Shane's lap. The taller man straightened up, picking up his book again, immediately delving back into it. By the time McClintock reached the room, the two of them were sat on opposite sides, only a tiny bit flushed, occupied by their own respective thoughts. The radio still lay on the floor, crackling away. 

"You boys hear anything?" asked McClintock with wide eyes, before Shane or Ryan could ask him a question first. 

Shane arched an eyebrow, not looking at the other man. "Huh?"

McClintock swallowed, still looking quite pale. "This was nailed to the door."

Shane went paper-white at the bloodied animal that McClintock held up in a gloved hand. It was a gopher. A dead gopher. He dropped the book, getting to his feet. His knees felt weak, but this time it wasn't the alcohol.

"To the door?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yeah."

Ryan looked ill too, eyes wide. "Holy fuck."

"Shane?" McClintock held it out, pointedly looking away from the poor animal. "This mean anything?"

Shane swallowed hard, still taking in the bloody image in front of him. "Ryan. I used to say Ryan looked like a cartoon gopher."

The silence went on for a long moment, and even though that sentence had always elicited laughs in the past, only deathly silence responded this time. Ryan pushed himself to his feet, and hell, was horrific shock one hell of a way to get sober. 

"He knows you're here," said McClintock firmly, his green eyes sharp. "Goldsworth must know."

Ryan's eyes were glued to the animal, his mouth hanging open. "What the fuck. What the _fuck_."

McClintock jumped into action straight away, chucking the animal aside. "Come with me. I'll take you somewhere safe."

Shane and Ryan instantly did so, following him, their faces carrying equal looks of fear. Goldsworth wasn't fucking around anymore, it seemed. He was out for blood. Ryan's blood. But McClintock would keep them safe. And really, with the mixture of alcohol and shock, Shane and Ryan had little reason to question McClintock's loyalty, or where Sara, Steven and Andrew had gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also LMAO at the new clip having Shane say he'd never get involved with a mob and me almost done writing a fic where Shane's involved with a mob  
> it's like that time I wrote The Jamison fic and I made Shane see death (a suit of armor with a skull in it) and then like 2 days later on his insta he out up a selfie in a weird shop with - wait for it - a suit of armor with a skull in it  
> buggin


	15. Some Pacific Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and in classic Me style, it's gonna get graphically violent (not gory, just graphic)

It took twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of exchanged glances in the rear view mirror, Ryan frowning in confusion, Shane keeping his face more guarded seeing as he was in the front passenger seat. Right next to McClintock, who was whistling away to himself as they drove down streets that were gradually grower darker and drearier. Shane turned his head to squint out the window, the alcohol still clinging somewhat to his mind. Where were they? Why would McClintock choose somewhere so shady to own a hideout? What was going on? Shane had a horrible feeling right in the pit of his stomach, but he refused to acknowledge it. He couldn't. There'd been enough betrayal in the past few weeks, he wasn't sure if he could face another. He caught Ryan's eye again in the mirror, not saying anything. Even though he felt like he should say sorry. And they always say to trust your gut feeling. 

"Where are we going?" asked Shane lightly, hoping he sounded ten times more relaxed than he felt. 

McClintock readjusted the rear view mirror, slowing at a red light. "Listen, kiddo. You know the deal, right?"

Shane swallowed, watching him out of the side of his eye. "The deal?"

"The business," elaborated McClintock with a slight wave of a meaty hand. "The business we're in. Y'know how rough it can be. Pretty grim, right?"

Shane felt the uneasy feeling in his stomach quickly rise to his chest. "Sometimes."

"And I'm fond of you, I am, really." McClintock sounded genuinely weary, giving his neat beard a scratch. "But at the end of the day, business is business, yes?"

Shane couldn't look at Ryan, trying to mentally tell him to bolt. To tuck and roll out the door and away to safety. "The light's green."

The light was green. It seemed to be the only light around, apart from the car headlights, which illuminated the derelict buildings ahead, the empty road. A streetlight flickered feebly down the street. Shane swallowed hard, feeling his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. Ryan was watching his face in the mirror, seeing the blank expression on it. The only expression that gave away when Shane was panicked. Ryan's wide eyes switched to stare at the back of McClintock's head, his hand subtly trying the door. Locked.

McClintock's voice was soft, deceivingly gentle. "I'm afraid I'm not waiting for the light, Shane."

The door opposite to Ryan swung open, and in sat Goldsworth, like he was taking a seat at dinner. He placed the gun right against Ryan's head as he closed the door, smiling at Shane in the mirror, a mocking depiction of a friendly gesture. Shane couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.

"Well, you're still with this punk, hm?" Goldsworth let the gun click ominously, watching Ryan's hands out of the side of his eye. "That's a long time for you to stay with someone, Shane. Almost a week? That's a new record."

Shane let his gaze drop as he inhaled deeply, unable to look at McClintock beside him. The bastard. "Alright. Alright, what's next."

"Still a cocky bastard, huh?"

Shane remained calm, looking down his nose at his hands shaking slightly. He placed them on his lap to hide it. "I think maybe you overestimated yourself. It's just you, against me and Ryan. McClintock can't even swing a toothpick."

Goldsworth rolled his eyes. "You think I'm a fucking idiot, don't you?"

McClintock flashed the headlights, and a matching pair beamed on further up the street, on a corner. Black, with blacked-out windows. It began driving, McClintock quickly following. All very orderly. Ryan swallowed hard, keeping his gaze focused straight ahead. He was in major trouble here. Big, big fucking trouble. How many times had he unknowingly infringed on the territory of these two criminals in his attempt to take Shane down? Probably one time too many. And really, Shane was probably in more danger than he was. The words from that night in the motel echoed around Ryan's head, why Shane had resisted so much.  _I'd get straight-up murdered, Ryan_. They'd slept together. Everyone in the car knew that he and Shane had slept together.  _I'd get straight-up murdered, Ryan!_

The drive went on in silence. Down to the docks, to a rickety old warehouse with a patchy roof. The engine cut, and then it was true silence. A heavy, painful lack of sound. Shane wanted to reach back, to take Ryan's hand, to promise him he'd do anything to keep him safe. Ryan had his eyes closed, face pale, sweaty, like he had a bad fever. A group of men got out of the car in front, circling McClintock's. One opened Shane's door for him, a threat more than an offer. Ryan was promptly dragged out of his side, making Shane hurry to get out his own so that he could watch where they were taking him. Down towards the water, it seemed.

"Don't worry so much, Shane," smiled Goldsworth, clapping him on the shoulder as they watched Ryan being forced away, the cop throwing a wide-eyed look over his shoulder at Shane. "He's safe. Relatively safe. For now."

Shane took a deep breath, tilting his chin up, looking down his nose at the shorter man. He let his disdainful gaze rest on McClintock for a long moment, swiftly staring him down. Then he turned towards the warehouse, stalking through the few men gathered, like Sarabi through the hyenas. He was still Shane Madej. They hadn't forgotten. It was him who had been in control, him who had had everyone under his thumb for so long, until Ryan landed on the scene. He could hear the others following him, hear a cigarette or two being lit up.

_Ryan, you poor idiot. I'm sorry._

* * *

Sara ripped open the door before Horsley could even attempt to put the key in. She looked wild, eyes wide, curls flying as she looked from Horsley to Helen.

"Why is there blood on my door?" asked Horsley instantly, pointing at where the gopher had been stuck, of which she was entirely unaware.

"They're gone!" she almost shouted. "Ryan and Shane are gone! They're not fucking here!"

Horsley blinked at this, straightening up. "What?"

"There was a dead rat-looking thing in the hallway, and in the room beside it there were glasses, I don't fucking know!" 

Helen frowned, stepping into the hallway. "Where's Steven and Andrew?"

"They had to bolt, we all had to bolt, McClintock fucking lied." Sara was hyperventilating, her coat already in her hand as she barreled between the two women. "We have to go. McClintock lied, Goldsworth was at the docks earlier. Chatting away together. Then a bunch of guys came at the car, we had to run. I don't know where Andrew and Steven are."

Helen clamped a hand over her mouth, frozen to the spot. "No, wait, I can't- I can't just go with you guys, I'm not allowed! I don't have my partner, I don't have back-up, I don't-"

The crunching of wheels on the driveway made them all turn, flinching at the rapid, excited honking. "What's up, fuckers?"

Horsley looked from the two strangers to Helen, who was visibly relieved, her shoulders relaxing. "You know them?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know them." Helen hurried to the car, slamming TJ's door shut before the man could open it. "No, keep in the keys in, Kelsey! We have to go. Now. Ryan's in some deep shit."

Kelsey frowned in the rear view mirror as Helen and the two strangers scrambled into the car, seeing an equally confused look on TJ's face. "Wait, what the fuck is happening?"

"Where could they be?" asked Sara breathlessly, looking from Horsley to Helen. "I don't know. I don't know!"

"We'll start at point A," said Horsley, as calm and collected as ever, despite her slightly mussed hair, glasses balancing precariously at the end of her nose. "Last time Goldsworth was seen was the docks, correct? Along with Andrew and Steven?"

"Yeah," nodded Sara, swallowing. "Yeah, docks. Yeah."

"Then the docks, please," said Horsley over the shoulder of Kelsey's seat, like she was giving directions to a taxi driver. "And it would be appreciated if you would floor it."

"He's probably fucking dead," continued Sara, her heart racing just as fast as Helen's beside her. Just as fast as the car. "I mean, what else could Goldsworth want from Shane? I don't know. Shit." 

* * *

"I want these."

Goldsworth placed a small bundle of cards on the table. Credit and debit. They shone in the harsh light. Shane's eyes widened at the sight of them; identity theft was something he hadn't actively taken part in for a while now, but he still had the accounts from when he did. Accounts he’d delve into when needed. And they added up to millions. Millions. He would've swiped them then and there, snapped them all in half if he could. But this was hard to do with your hands bound behind the chair you were situated on. Shane had been anxiously awaiting the usual activities Goldsworth took part in; maybe some teeth-pulling, some beating, a few fingers broken. Nothing yet. And no sign of Ryan. That alone was worse than anything Goldsworth could possibly do to him. Or so he thought.

"I want the PINs," said Goldsworth simply, a small shrug accompanying the sentence. "I want everything that was yours. You're gone, Shane. Over."

Shane lifted his gaze from the cards, an eyebrow raised. "You're bitter, aren't you?"

"A little. But I think I'll be fine after this." Goldsworth placed his hand on the bundle of cards, spreading them out. "So c'mon. Let's get this rolling."

Shane was quiet for a moment, knowing exactly what was going to happen next. "I'm not giving them to you. Asshole."

Goldsworth smiled a shark's smile. “Good. Good, that's what I hoped you'd say."

He clapped his hands, and in came Ryan in a dazed silence, dragged by two men. He was thrown to his knees, still quiet, his hands zip-tied behind his back. He spat out a mouthful of blood. Shane looked at it, then back at Ryan's face. He'd clearly been roughed up a bit already, a glaring hint from Goldsworth that he was serious. His grey t-shirt was soaked around the neck and the shoulders, clinging to him, his hair also wet. Ryan lifted his head, the blood dripping from his nose and busted lip shining in the light from the single bulb above.

"He's a pretty one, isn't he?" Goldsworth circled behind Ryan, grabbing him by the jaw, wrenching his head back. "Mm. Almost a shame to ruin his face."

Ryan kept his eyes fixed on Shane's, the grip painfully hard on his jaw, so hard he couldn't speak. He didn’t really need to, anyway. His wide eyes showed his fear clearly. Shane's face was blank, blank and pale. Panicked.

"So c'mon, Shane." Goldsworth grinned at him. "Speak."

Shane swallowed hard, bringing his eyes back up to meet Goldsworth's. This was a dilemma. A hell of a dilemma. How to get out of this. How to get out of this alive. Basically impossible. And the chances of getting out with both him _and_ Ryan alive? Slim to none. He could always give the accounts to Goldsworth, but then what the hell would  _he_ have to live for after this? Nothing. Nothing, really. He’d be right back where he started. He tried his hardest to remember what Ryan used to be to him; a pain in the neck, a constant pressure in his life, a driving force, a very real threat. He'd put him in jail, he'd taken everything away from him. Shane swallowed again, keeping his eyes fixed on Goldsworth's glittering ones. His voice was hoarse.

"No."

Goldsworth nonchalantly circled Ryan again, pausing for only a second before punching him hard across the face. Ryan's head snapped to one side, stumbling on his knees as he struggled to stay upright. He met Goldsworth's steely gaze, mouth parting as he swallowed, a bead of blood running from the corner of his mouth. It ran down through his stubble, dripping off his jaw. He raised a shoulder to wipe it away, the damp grey of his shirt turning darker where the blood touched it. He snarled a curse as Goldsworth wrenched his head back again. 

"C'mon, Shane," said Goldsworth in a sing-song voice, half-turning to face the man, a hand tangled in Ryan's hair to hold his head in place. "Give me the accounts and I'll leave you alone."

"You think I give a fuck if he dies?" said Shane dryly, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t look at Ryan.

"Yeah. I do."

Ryan barely had time to blink before the next punch hit him, almost knocking him entirely off-balance. His mouth tasted overwhelmingly of blood, which he spat out, despite the pain in his cheek at the movement. Shane's jaw was clenched, teeth gritted, but other than that he didn't react. He just had to focus. Focus on the past. Not on the present. Or the future. _Ryan doesn't mean anything to you. Ryan can't mean anything to you._

"I don't care," said Shane firmly, his fists clenched behind the chair. "Fuck you."

"Oh, you don't care?" Goldsworth nodded at the two lingering henchmen, the two of them immediately going to haul Ryan up off the floor, stand him upright between them. "I think we should make sure of that."

“Shane.” It was Ryan now, sounding appropriately fearful. “Shane, c'mon, just-”

Shane winced as Goldsworth drove his fist hard into Ryan's stomach, just below his ribs. Ryan doubled over at the impact, the air in his lungs forced out in one violent cough, ending his sentence. He stayed folded over for a long moment before the two men holding him straightened him up again. Shane avoided his eyes, beginning to wonder if he was on the verge of a panic attack; his heart was thundering, his breath shallow. He stayed quiet.

"I think you do  _care_ ," said Goldsworth, another hard punch slamming into Ryan's stomach at the last word. "I think you  _care_ a  _lot_." Ryan let out a spluttered cough as the punches continued landing, his fists clenched behind his back. "And you know why I think you  _care_?" Shane had his eyes squeezed shut, but the sound of the blows was almost worse than the sight of them; the dull thuds, the breathless grunts from Ryan. "Because he is  _still_ a- _live_." Ryan let his mouth fall open to gasp for air. "Even-" A punch in the side. "-though-" Another punch in his other side, making Shane's teeth grit. "-you-" Ryan tried to double over, openly panting, a high-pitched gasp escaping as another blow landed in his side. "-know-" Another harsh thud, accompanied by a breathless cough from Ryan. "-it's-" Shane still refused to open his eyes, flinching with each punch. "-stupid."

The men finally let go at the last punch. Ryan stumbled to his knees instantly, gasping for breath, folded over so that his face was pressed against the cool concrete. He felt sick, like he was about to vomit at any second. He wretched slightly, but nothing came up. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move at all. It was the closest he'd ever come to understanding cramps. He turned his head slightly, with a lot of effort, to glare at Shane, face still pressed against the ground. The blood dripped from his parted lips to the pale concrete. Shane himself was still visibly tense, biting his lip so hard the skin had turned a true white.

"Woo!" Goldsworth shook out his hands, eyebrows raised. "The little fucker’s still conscious. Impressive."

"Don't." It was Shane, sounding desperate. "Ricky, don't. Don't. Don't!"

The kick hit Ryan right in the side, sending him sprawling, his bound hands no help as he rolled onto his back, eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted. The growled curse ripped out from behind his clenched teeth. Shane readjusted his seating, automatically trying to stand up, looking from Ryan to Goldsworth, eyes wide. 

"You know what I was going to do to the Tromps?" said Goldsworth coolly, his voice somewhere around Ryan. "You know what I was going to do to Mark?"

"Ricky, stop! Stop it!" The chair screeched on the floor as Shane moved forwards, eyes wide. "Please, stop!"

Ryan felt the hand grab a fistful of his hair, yank him upright. He stayed on his knees, head ducked as he stared at the ashen concrete, shoulders slumped. His heart was pounding, but he felt oddly numb towards the current situation. Shock. The fear would kick in properly soon, he supposed.

"Ricky don't!" Shane was still shouting, bordering on pleading. "Don't! Please don't!"

The metal bat struck him right in the side. Ryan was pretty sure he heard his ribs shatter, his arm. And that was when the fear kicked in. He fell on his other side, crying out in pain, the feeling in his body absolutely excruciating.

"Ricky I'll tell you!" Shane was yelling, desperate, the zip-tie cutting into his wrists as he pulled against it, hard enough to draw blood. "Ricky I'll give you anything! Stop! For the love of God, stop!"

"And do you want to know what I was going to do to Jacoba?" continued Goldsworth as he circled the groaning Ryan, like he hadn't heard a thing. The bat tapped against the concrete, making Ryan flinch each time. "This."

Shane's yelled 'NO!' was almost as loud as Ryan's scream as the bat landed on his knee, cracking the bone it hit. Ryan was hyperventilating, tears squeezing out from his eyelashes as he rocked back and forth on the cold concrete, head pushed back against the ground, mouth open to allow the harsh breaths to fire in and out.

"Ricky, stop!" begged Shane, bordering on sobbing. "I'll tell you whatever you want! You can have everything! Just stop hurting him, please!"

Goldsworth raised his eyebrows at this, oblivious to Ryan's pained groans just below him. "Huh. You really like this guy. You cracked like a goddamn pistachio shell."

Shane couldn't take his eyes from Ryan, who was now lying completely still on his side, back to Shane. His bound hands were limp. "Is he okay. Is he conscious. Ricky, tell me. Please."

Goldsworth gave Ryan a half-hearted poke with the bat, hearing the low groan in response. "He's good."

"I-"

"A goddamn cop. You screwed a fucking cop." Goldsworth snorted, a harsh laugh. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

Shane finally looked at the man holding the bat, wanting nothing more than to put ten thousand knives through his eyes. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you now. All the details of every single card there. But he needs to go to the hospital."

Goldsworth was quiet for a moment, leaning on the bat like a cane. "What does this guy have that I didn't?"

"He has a goddamn heart," replied Shane fiercely, not hesitating for a second. The chair screeched again as he pushed forwards. "And he's honorable. And he’s not a murdering psycho-maniac. And he's not a lying little son of a bitch  _whore_ that I want to fucking burn alive right now."

Goldsworth arched an eyebrow, the gesture sending a chill down Shane's spine. "Mm. Didn't like that."

"No. No, Ricky, no, don't-" Shane swallowed hard as Ryan was rolled onto his back, showing his face; mouth bloodied, cheek bruised, a gash just below his eye. "Oh God."

Ryan didn't respond. He was bordering on unconscious, eyes half-open, unfocused. He swallowed, a sticky sound, the gesture making him cough. He winced as this sent a new wave of pain through his broken ribs, bringing a new wave of consciousness with it.

"Shane." He tilted his head aside to look at him, eyes heavy, words slurred. "I don't wanna die."

Shane felt the words like a knife through his heart. He couldn't respond. He didn't have the slightest clue how to. What could he even say? You won't? It's fine? Everything's going to be okay? He watched, his body switching between too hot and too cold as Goldsworth sat across Ryan’s chest, ignoring the loud yelp of pain from Ryan as he did so. He rolled up his sleeves, a handyman at work.

“I’ll admit it, Shane.” Goldsworth spoke casually, an equally casual hand reaching out for the pliers handed to him. “You hurt me when I found out you’d just been using me. And I’m gonna show you how much it hurt.”

“Ricky, what the fuck do you want from me?” shouted Shane, the tears hot on his cheeks as he watched Goldsworth force Ryan’s bloodied mouth open, a gruesome dentist. “Stop it! Leave him alone, for fuck’s sake, man!”

“Nah, I’m gonna- Fuck!” Goldsworth wrenched his fingers away from between Ryan’s teeth, glaring at the owner of the bite. “Oh you little shit.”

Ryan spat at him, ninety-percent blood. He looked somewhat wild, feral, with his intense eyes and bloody face. “Fuck you, asshole.”

"Ryan, shut up!"

"You put your hand anywhere near me again and I'll fucking bite it off!" shouted Ryan; his fight or flight was kicking in, and there was only one option in the current moment. "I'll take your fucking fingers off, asshole!"

"What a charmer," commented Goldsworth, sitting back with a bit more force than necessary, Ryan involuntarily kicking out as the pain shot through his ribs. "You know, you suit each other. You do."

"Ryan, stop fucking talking!" yelled Shane as the man continued reeling off insults at Goldsworth, who was clearly growing impatient. "Shut up, you fucking idiot!"

Shane watched helplessly as Goldsworth swiftly subdued the struggling Ryan, the pliers becoming a useful tool as Goldsworth struck Ryan across the face repeatedly. Shane only realized he was crying once the silence had settled, and there were no more blood splatters joining the rest on the floor beside Ryan’s head. Ryan was entirely unconscious now, head tilted away from Shane. The only sound was Shane’s desperate sobs, his head hanging. The epitome of defeat. 

“He’ll probably wake up soon,” said Goldsworth with a passive shrug, getting to his feet. "So I guess this is an interlude."

"Please," begged Shane, the tears still streaming down his cheeks, soaking into his beard. "Please, don't kill him. Don't."

"And why shouldn't I?" Goldsworth leaned on the bat, counting on his other hand. "First of all, he stole you from me. Second of all, he's a fucking cop. And third of all, I want to hurt you."

"Then hurt me!" said Shane in open desperation. "Just stop hurting him! Hurt  _me!_  He didn't do anything to you! Ryan never knew anything, I swear!"

"Save it, Shane. I-" The sound of rattling above made him pause, turning his head up. "The fuck was that?"

The ceiling was pitch black, as dark as the night sky visible right through it, all the way through the roof high above. Shane was watching closely, his sobs paused. 

"Probably a pigeon, boss," said one of the lingering henchmen helpfully.

Goldsworth narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Right. Anyway, I-"

Another rattle, followed by a scraping sound. The scraping grew louder, rhythmic, something being pushed across the floor above. Rust against rust. The occupants of the room let their eyes follow the sound, their heads all moving in unison.

"Check that out," ordered Goldsworth, lifting the bat upright in one hand. "That's not a fucking pigeon."

A pause. Two unconvincing  _coos_  followed. A painfully loud grating sound. Then the boat dropped.

It wasn't a particularly large boat, but even relatively small boats were still big enough to crush a human. Goldsworth didn't have much time to move. The bow of the old speedboat crashed into the floor inches away from him, the rest of the vehicle teetering over him. Shane threw himself backwards, the chair toppling over, but he still heard the splintering, the crunching, the yelling. Goldsworth's voice was still there, but it wasn't confident anymore. It was pained, terrified, shouting for help. Then more voices joined in; female ones, familiar ones, followed by gunshots that had him feeling like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Hey!" The rusted ladder leading to the rickety second floor shook as Andrew and Steven flew down it, looking frazzled, still in their matching suits, but a bit more disheveled than earlier. Andrew looked slightly sunburned; they must've been hiding for hours in the building. "Shane! Fuck, free him!"

The zip-tie was slippy with Shane's blood from his struggles. But he ignored the pain, pushing himself to his knees, half-crawling in his haste to reach Ryan's limp body. He stumbled to his knees beside the unconscious Ryan, his hands shaking as he cupped his face.

"Oh God. Oh fucking Christ. Ryan. Ryan,  _please_."

Ryan didn't respond, his eyes not even fully closed. He was still breathing, though; the blood around his nose bubbled slightly with each weary breath. Shane held him close, eyes squeezed shut, his entire body shaking, from fear, from stress, from anger. Everything sounded faraway, unimportant. It was. Right now, it was unimportant. Shane kept his face inches from Ryan's, watching for anything, any positive signs.

"Ryan, just- Please, say something."

A weak mumble, so weak he wondered if he was imagining it. Maybe he was. He sat back on his knees, turning to someone, anyone.

"Ring an ambulance!" he shouted, angry, angry at everything. "Ring a fucking ambulance!"

Sara hesitated, looking petrified at the entire situation; the gunshots had moved further into the derelict building, but still much too close for comfort. "Shane, we- We don't have time."

He paused, immediately understanding. "No. No, Sara, I can't leave. Not while he's- Not while he might-"

"Horsley said she's not waiting. She's already  _gone_ , Shane." Sara's voice was trembling, from fear, from horror at what they might have to do. "We- You told me how important it was that we be right on time. You have to leave him, Shane."

"No." The word was choked, painful in his throat. "No. I can't. I can't."

"He has his team here! They'll-"

"We'll bring him." Shane didn't wait for approval. He simply scooped Ryan up, clenching his teeth as he heard the dragged-out groan as it agitated the man's knee, his ribs, every cut and bruise. "Just to A&E. Please. I need to know he'll be okay. I  _need_  to."

"And what if he won't be okay?" Sara followed Shane out the nearest excuse for a door, a hole in the moldy wall, able to see Ryan's head hanging back over Shane's arm. "What then?"

Shane ignored this, hurrying towards the parking lot. "Drive fast. Really fucking fast."

So she did. Shane stayed in the back of the car with Ryan for the entire drive, cradling him, watching him slip in and out of consciousness. Ryan's eyes would focus on him, confused, pained, then flutter closed just as quickly, head lolling. Shane pressed his lips together to stop them from trembling, to stop his sobs from being too obvious. He raised a hand to cup Ryan's face, the drying blood sticky under his fingers. He was almost unrecognizable behind the caked blood, the bruises, the cuts. Ryan Bergara. Ryan fucking Bergara. One way or another, Shane always knew the guy was going to kill him.

"Ryan," he whispered, watching the gaze focus slightly at the words. "Ryan, please. Don't give me a shitty ending."

Ryan stared at him in silence for a long moment, so long that Shane began to wonder if it was actually over. Then he suddenly spoke.

"This sucks," he said thickly, like a drunk old man. "Don't like this."

"No. No, I don't think you do." Shane let himself smile the smallest smile as Ryan's hand landed on his face, clumsily holding it. "Ryan."

"I like you," said Ryan with a delirious smile, poking him softly in the face. "I like  _you_ , Shane Madej."

Oh God. Shane didn't reply. He couldn't. His voice would crack instantly. Then Ryan was out again, head resting against Shane's chest. And for a moment, Shane could convince himself that he was just sleeping. That they were back in his bed, in Horsley's, sharing the early morning. Together. Safe.

"I like you too, Ryan."

The car screeched to a halt outside A&E, Sara flying out, yanking the door open. "Come on! The plane's leaving in like, twenty minutes, Shane!"

"Okay! Okay, okay."  _Not okay. This isn't okay_.

He carried Ryan towards the glowing yellow of the A&E doors, hearing Ryan's low whimpers as the hurried movements jostled his broken body. The nurses approached instantly, abandoning the other patients, seeing the state the man was in.  _Get a bed! Emergency surgery! Call a doctor!_

"Ryan!" Shane's hand gripped the other man's as he was placed on the bed, the nurses fussing around him, attaching this and that, looking unnervingly concerned. "Ryan, I'm so fucking sorry."

A nurse threw him a terrified look. "You did this?!"

"No! No, no way! Never!" Shane didn't take his eyes from Ryan, even as the nurses pushed him away, separated them. "Ryan, I'm so sorry! I'm so fucking sorry!" He turned to the nurse again, not even realizing he was still shouting. "Is he gonna be okay?!"

"We don't know," he replied, already moving off. "He might have internal bleeding, multiple contusions, fractured-"

"Shane!" It was Sara's voice now, louder than all the others. "Come on, man!"

"I- I'm coming!" Shane walked backwards towards the door, not taking his eyes from the receding huddle of medical personnel around the bed. "I'm coming. Oh God. Ryan."

He followed Sara out to the car, still in a total daze, stunned, his hands shaking. He sat in the passenger seat, staring at nothing as the car screeched away from the hospital. For a long while it was just the sound of the roaring engine. Then he was on the plane, Sara trying to speak to him, Horsley offering alcohol from the mini bar, entirely unsure of what to do. Shane didn't respond at all, gaze distant, tear-filled. But it was only when the plane was thirty thousand feet in the air that he just let the tears flow, his face buried in his hands, shoulders wracking, Sara holding him close. Horsley sat across from them, a glass of pricey whiskey in one hand, a box containing her one true love beside her. No one spoke. The only sound was the low whir of the plane's engine, the clinking of the ice in Horsley's glass, and Shane's heartbreak.

* * *

Ryan stood in the dining room again. Horsley's dining room. The dawn drifted in through the tall window. Such a short amount of time spent there, but it might as well have been a lifetime. It  _felt_  like a completely different life.

The crutch tapped on the ground as Ryan moved down the long table. Everything was still in place; mugs, newspapers. His and Shane's glasses were still in the small room, the hidden room down the most secretive hallway. Shane's bed was still unmade, covers thrown back, a few items of clothing littering the ground. Ryan had fought the urge to pick up the red flannel, the one Shane had worn the day he'd tried to bolt after the coffee shop. Now Ryan knew why Shane had brought those accounts with him during the chase; he was planning on finding the Tromps, on escaping. Ryan almost wished he had. Then none of this would have happened. Or maybe it would have. Fate was a bitch like that.

He came to a halt in front of the ornate mirror hanging behind where Horsley's record player had been. He'd never noticed the mirror, since the record player took all the glory. The few cuts still lingered; on his cheekbone, across the bridge of his nose, just at the side of his jaw. Scars. The doctor said they'd be scars. Fractured cheekbone, broken nose, dislocated jaw, mild concussion. Scars had been the last thing he'd worried about. He raised his hand to trace the cut across his nose, the cast on his arm complaining slightly with the movement.

"You good?" It was Helen in the doorway, eyebrows raised. "You shouldn't even be here, man. I shouldn't have brought you."

Ryan smiled a small smile, agitating the stitches inside his mouth. "I'm good. I am."

Helen moved to stand beside him, tapping the place where the record player had once sat. "So she's definitely gone too, yeah?"

"Yep. She loved that thing." Ryan continued looking at himself in the mirror, at his blackened eyes, his tongue probing his cracked tooth. "I think I want to retire."

Helen blinked in shock, so suddenly her head jerked back. "Wait, you- What?!"

"I don't think I can stay here."

"Goldsworth's dead, man! You're-"

"Not Goldsworth. I just-" He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Home. I want to go home. LA. See my dogs, my mom and dad. My family."

Helen watched his face closely, openly concerned. "Forever?"

He shrugged, wincing as the movement sent a jerk of pain through his arm. "I don't know. Just for a bit."

She went quiet, looking a little put-out, but she could understand why he wanted to. Certain events can make you realize how much you were actually missing out on. "What would you do?"

He resisted the urge to shrug again. "I'm still an American citizen. I could work there, be a cop. Or maybe some P.I. stuff."

She smiled at this, fondly. "As long as you stick to that line of work, and don't get personally involved with anymore criminals, you'll be fine."

Ryan gave a weak smile, but he didn't reply. He hadn't thought about Shane, not properly. Not for the entire two weeks he'd been bed-bound, the lack of civilization driving him loopy. The entire world was his hospital room. He was scared to think about him. To confront his true feelings about what had happened, about what he'd seen, heard. Felt.

“What the fuck happened, Ryan?” asked Helen quietly, sitting at the table. She knew the basics, but Ryan hadn't openly discussed it. With anyone. “…Was it Goldsworth?” The ending to the question lingered in the air.  _Or was it Shane?_

It was reasonably that they all suspected it had been Shane. McClintock vanishes, Horsley vanishes, Sara vanishes. Shane disappears in a puff of smoke too. And what had happened in the warehouse had been so hectic, so dimly-lit, so wild that no one could quite pin-point who had been where, when. Even Andrew was beginning to doubt it had been Shane he'd freed.

“Yeah. It was Goldsworth.”

Ryan knew it hadn’t been Shane. Firstly,  _he_  remembered the entire episode. He remembered the blazing pain, and the terror, and the sound of Shane screaming for Goldsworth to  _stop, please stop, you can have everything!_  And then it went a bit patchy, like he drank too much. But he remembered Shane’s face, in the back of a car, lit up periodically by passing streetlights. His face, openly concerned, eyes soft, worried.  _I like you too, Ryan_. His hand on Ryan’s face, thumb brushing his cheek.  _I like you too_.

"Yeah." Ryan spoke, just to stop the painfully tight feeling in his chest. "Yeah. I want to go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued...
> 
> also Moods for the next part:  
> https://youtu.be/gJ50rvySDCk Delilah by Florence + The Machine, mainly because of the following lyrics:
> 
>  
> 
> _Too fast for freedom_  
>  _Sometimes it all falls down_  
>  _These chains never leave me_  
>  _I keep dragging them around_


End file.
